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STORIES OF THE 
GREAT HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 











Stories of the * 
Great Hymns of the 





BY 
SILAS H. PAINE 


Introduction by 
LUTHER D. WISHARD 


NEW ERA PUBLISHING COMPANY 
MONTCLAIR, NEW JERSEY 


Coryricut, 1925, BY 
NEW ERA PUBLISHING co. 


Printed in the United States of America by 
J, J. LITTLE AND IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK 


DEDICATED TO 
MARY S. PAINE 


Whose constant collaboration with 


her husband made this book possible 


STANZA OF A 
Favorite HyMN oF 
LINCOLN 


“Tf you are too weak to journey 
Up the mountain steep and high, 
You can stand within the valley, 
As the multitude goes by; 

You can chant in happy measure, 
As they slowly pass along ; 

Tho’ they may forget the singer, 
They will not forget the song.” 


INTRODUCTION 
By Lutuer D. WisHaArRD 


This monumental research in hymnology is not the 
author’s only memorial. Neither is it his chief service. His 
varied activities are deserving of much fuller treatment than 
this brief foreword. Such treatment will be given them in 
the near future in a fitting biographical monograph. His 
aptitude for research led him into a number of other fields, 
covering the fauna and flora, the revolutionary and abori- 
ginal history of the Lake George region and the pictorial 
teachings of the Bible. Such work was done after office 
hours throughout his working year and during his periodic 
vacations. 

Hymnology was one of his chief diversions. A busy 
official of a corporation of world-wide note, he took time 
throughout a period of forty years to assemble a large and 
rare collection of hymn books and also to compile a mass 
of incidents concerning hymns, their authorship, the causes 
which gave them birth, and their influence upon lives. 
These incidents have now been published under the title 
“Stories of the Great Hymns of the Church.” The most 
widely known man in the industrial world, his daily busi- 
ness associate for many years, was wont to say, “If Silas 
H. Paine says ‘it is true,’ it is.’ The ‘accuracy of this 
rare work on hymnology can have no higher endorse- 
ment. I believe it can justly be said of Mr. Paine, as one 
of our former statesmen said of himself, “I would rather 
be right than be President.” Mr. Paine had no patience 
with the legendary and apocryphal. “The truth, the whole 


1X 


x INTRODUCTION 


truth, and nothing but the truth,” was his motto in research. 
He once remarked to the writer, in questioning the authen- 
ticity of the birth story of a well known hymn, “I would 
rather not know so many things, than know so many 
things that are not so.” In quoting our greatest American 
humorist he unconsciously let me into one of the great 
secrets of his successful life. 

His interest in hymnology was undoubtedly awakened 
and deepened by reason of his many years’ service as a 
Sunday School superintendent. This interest found first 
expression in the collection of five thousand hymn books 
without a duplicate, whose publication spanned eighteen 
centuries. Anyone passing through Hartford, with a few 
hours at his disposal, will be richly rewarded by visiting a 
library alcove of the Congregational Theological Seminary. 
He will there live over again his childhood as the writer 
did one winter day, by renewing his acquaintance with 
this collection of old time Church and Sunday School hymn 
books which he never expected to see again: “The Golden 
Chain,” “Musical Leaves,” “The Singing Pilgrim,” “The 
Oriole,” ““Winnowed Hymns.” How these familiar titles re- 
call walks through clover fields to the village church in the 
good old summer time,—yes, and through snowdrifts in 
the good old winter time,—the ringing voices of singing 
_ children, the recital of Scripture verses, the wholesome ad- 
monitions of “our teachers dear,’ as they were character- 
ized in song, the stroll through the village graveyard after 
Sunday School, as a reward for good behavior during the 
preceding week. As one recalls the words and melodies 
which come floating down the flood of years, is it because 
of the magic spell which time has woven around our memo- 
ries that the old songs seem so superior to much of the 
semi-jazz jargon which marks the measure of too much of 
the juvenile singing of nowadays? If there be a larger, 
rarer collection of church hymnology on this continent or 
any continent we have yet to hear of it. 

It was about. 1883 when Mr. Paine first became so in- 


INTRODUCTION xi 


terested in hymnology. His interests were perennial. They 
‘ran on forever. When in 1900 I renewed with him my 
acquaintance first made in 1879, he was serving as host 
in his new hotel at Silver Bay. The event of the week 
was not the fishing excursion to Jabe’s Pond, the ascent 
of Black Mountain, the steam yacht trip to Paradise 
Bay, the ride to Fort Ticonderoga, or even the Saturday 
night dance, as far removed from present day dancing as 
the span of a continent. 

The chief event of the week during the early summers 
of our outings there was Mr. Paine’s Sunday evening service 
of song in the auditorium. He furnished the prelude to 
every hymn with stories apt, fascinating, and inspiring, 
stories in quest of which he had ransacked libraries of 
music in America and Great Britain. Never until then 
had I heard an audience really “sing with the spirit and 
with the understanding also,” and it was then that I first 
realized that one cannot sing with the spirit until he under- 
stands why, when, where, and by whom the hymn came into 
being, and what service the hymn has rendered in making 
and remolding men. I had joined in the singing of Reginald 
Heber’s majestic missionary hymn in audiences which I 
had addressed almost all the way “From Greenland’s Icy 
Mountains to India’s Coral Strand,” but never with the 
sensations with which I have heard the inspired and inspir- 
ing words sung after the thrilling account by Mr. Paine 
of the occasion of its composition. We have sung “I Love 
to Steal Awhile Away” since childhood without knowing 
that Phoebe Brown, who lived a century ago, “had so many 
children she didn’t know what to do”; so, after putting 
them to bed (without spanking, I trow) she sought rest in 
prayer as she walked under the elms at “the hour of setting 
day,”’ and wrote “TI love to steal awhile away from little 
ones and care.” What a hymn for tired mothers! 

The time would fail me to thus allude to dozens, yes 
scores of hymns of whose birth and fruitful life I have 
heard Mr. Paine speak in the song service on the shore 


xil INTRODUCTION 


of Silver Bay at twilight, when his vibrant voice was ac- 
companied by 


“Tow stir of leaves and dip of oars, 
And lapsing waves on quiet shores.” 


It was then that I began urging him to give the entire 
church the inspiration of his many years of world-wide 
search for the ancestry of our greatest and most loved 
hymns. It is well that he did not then accede to my appeal, 
for his task of collection was far from completed. Now that 
it is finished, the churches need wait no longer for this rare 
ministry of song at the hands of one of its- most loyal sons. 

Even Silas Paine would have been unequal to this arduous 
labor of love had he toiled alone. His wife, Mary, collabo- 
rated with him in this, as in all of his varied researches, 
with unwearied devotion and fine discrimination. Her name 
deserves the place given it on the dedicatory page. It is 
owing to her loyalty and abounding generosity that this rare 
volume, a veritable De Luxe, containing eight hundred and 
five stories of hymns, is offered to the Christian world at 
a cost far below its commercial value. 

The writer of the above is indeed honored in being ac- 
corded the opportunity to furnish this tribute to his old 
comrade-in-arms who, although “being dead, yet speaketh” 
through these glowing pages as with a tongue of fire. No— 
he is not dead, but alive forevermore. 


“SINGING WITH THE SPIRIT AND. WITH THE 
UNDERSTANDING ALSO.” 


A Lay Sermon by 
Siuras H. PAINne. 


A hymn book lies beside the Bible on every pulpit desk. 
One was given by inspiration of God. The other has been 
said to contain: “The holiest thoughts of holiest men in 
their holiest moments.” One is “profitable for doctrine, 
for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness,” 
and the other is helpful in all departments of Christian 
work and worship. It has been quaintly said of hymns, that 
“they make Bible truths portable in men’s memories”; and 
it is no disparagement of Scripture to assert that often- 
times a Bible truth, clothed in the language of a hymn, 
finds lodgment in the heart when in the plainer words of 
Scripture it had failed to do go. 

One of the Secretaries of The American Board recently 
told me of an incident in his own career which illustrates the 
truth of this assertion. When, a young man, he was settled 
as colleague of a pastor, whose advancing years demanded 
help, one day his younger colleague was called to visit one 
of the aged members of the church, who was dying. He 
found her downeast and discouraged; and, in his effort to 
comfort and cheer her, he repeated all the Scripture verses 
he could think of that were adapted to that end, but entirely 
without success, and he left her discouraged over his failure. 
Going to the old pastor he told him of the case, and the 
latter at once responded: ‘Let us go back and see her again; 
T will go along.” As they entered the room, where the dying 
woman lay, the old pastor gave her a cheerful greeting and 

Xi 


xiv A LAY SERMON 


then said: “I’ve just been thinking about the old hymn 
we've sung together so many times: 


“How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord, 

Is laid for your faith in His excellent word! 
What more can he say than to you He hath said,— 
To you, who for refuge to Jesus have fled?” 


As if touched by magic fingers the clouds were dissipated, 
and now the same Scripture words, that had failed before, 
brought comfort and hope. This incident suggests the 
thought that a familiarity with hymns will be useful to 
you in your work as pastors. 

A fire occurred over two hundred years ago in the rectory 
of a little church in Epworth, England. Two things escaped 
the flames: one was a bit of paper that was carried up into 
the air and fell singed and smoked upon the grass; the 
other was a puny child, who was with difficulty rescued 
from an upper window. Never fire yielded richer salvage, 
for the paper contained the words of a hymn just written 
by the rector, which has found a permanent place in 
Methodist hymnology: 


“Behold the Saviour of Mankind 
Nailed to the shameful tree! 
How vast the love, that him inclined 
To bleed and die for thee!”’ 


The puny child became the leader of that mighty evan- 
gelical movement which swept over England in the eigh- 
teenth century, and which he developed and crystallized 
into that wonderful organization we know as the Methodist 
Church. The incident was prophetic, for John Wesley could 
never have succeeded in building that great organization 
had it not been for the hymns of his brother, Charles. 

A singing church is almost sure to be a working and a 
spiritual church. If, when you become pastors, you find 
your churches cold and dead, get them to singing, and 
you will sing them into warmth and life and power. 


A LAY SERMON XV 


The purpose of this lecture is to suggest some of the 
practical methods by which hymns can be made helpful 
in your work and worship. 

The first method consists in giving information about 
the hymns themselves. Hymns have a history. Some of 
them were born out of rich and deep experience. The story 
of their birth has been told and is available. If you can 
tell these stories to your people, the hymns of which you 
tell them will always thereafter have greater value to them 
and will be more heartily sung. Take for example the 
familiar hymns: 


“Rock of Ages.” 

“T Love to Steal Awhile Away.” 

“Abide with Me, Fast Falls the Eventide.” 

“Hear my Prayer, O Heavenly Father.” 

“Stand Up! Stand Up for Jesus!” 

“Jesus, These Eyes Have Never Seen.” 

“Lead, Kindly Light! Amid the Encircling Gloom.” 
“Blest Be the Tie that Binds.” 

“My Days Are Gliding Swiftly By.” 

“My Country! ’Tis of Thee.” 


There, I have given you the titles of ten hymns, all of 
them familiar ones, and with them a very enjoyable evening, 
and one that will be profitable as well, can be arranged. A - 
good name for such a song service would be, “HyMNs wITH 
A History.” 

But, information about the authors of hymns is of more 
value than the story of the hymns themselves. Among hymn 
writers are some of the choicest spirits that ever lived; and 
it is worth while to bring your people into touch with such 
characters as John Newton, Ann Steele, Ray Palmer, and 
Fanny Crosby. Such information has also the additional 
value that it gives to you in the preparation of services of 
song a far wider range; for example: if you can tell the 
story of Isaac Watts, you can in connection with the story 
use any one of his hymns. “AN Hour witH Hymn 


XV1 A LAY SERMON 


Writers” is a good title to give to a song service of this sort. 

Another class of facts about hymns partakes a little of 
the character of both classes already named, and yet is 
not just like either. I do not know that I can better define 
it than by giving you an example. Turn to: 


“Art Thou Weary, Heavy Laden?” 
“There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy.” 
“Oh Sacred Head, Now Wounded.” 
“There Were Ninety and Nine.” 
“Shine, Mighty God!” 


Next comes the story of what these hymns have done. 
In this connection the field is unlimited in scope, and full 
of rare adventure. Oh! how these old hymns have travelled 
through the whole earth in their mission of comfort and 
help! One sang its song of cheer to Livingstone in the heart 
of Africa; another uttered its cry of warning to a gambler 
in China; one soothed a maniac into calm in a New York 
asylum; another broke from the lips of a dying girl in a 
New York tenement house; one line, caught by an actress’ 
ear as she walked the streets of London, changed her to 
a gospel singer; and another line, whispered by a lady over 
a suicide’s shoulder, saved him from the fatal step. 

These stories—simple little stories, most of them—are 
of value to you; for what these hymns have done they can 
do again; and it is possible for you to so use them that 
they shall become a veritable gospel and be endued with 
“The power of God unto salvation.” Now come with me 
to the battlefield of Shiloh. All day the battle has raged, 
and night has drawn her curtain now, and the stars look 
down upon strange scenes. Here and there squads of sol- 
diers are burying the dead, and surgeons and nurses are 
caring for the wounded, and chaplains are whispering to 
the dying. Stop here with me and listen where an agent of 
the Christian Commission kneels by the side of a dying boy. 
Already the chill of coming death is on his hands and brow, 
“Take off that ring from my finger, chaplain, and give it to 


A LAY SERMON xvii 


my sister at home, and tell her to keep it to remember me 
by. Tell her that I spoke of her when I was dying and sent 
her my love. Reach into my pocket, chaplain, and get 
my wallet; there’s a little money in it and a few keepsakes; 
give them to my mother, and tell her that I have lived in 
the army as I promised her I would, and that I did no dis- 
honor to her or to my father’s name on the battlefield. Say 
good-bye to them, chaplain, for me, and tell them that I 
died contented and happy. And now, chaplain, sing to 
me.” And the chaplain began to sing: 


“There is a fountain filled with blood, 
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins; 
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains.” 


And the boy exclaimed: “Oh, yes, I know that hymn; I 
can sing that, too.” And then as the chaplain sang the boy 
joined in, and every few words he broke into the song 
with some comment of his own. 

“In that day there shall be a fountain opened in the 
house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin 
and for uncleanness.’”—Zech. 13: 1. 

But tunes have stories to tell as well as hymns. I do 
not refer to the statelier music of the oratorio or that for 
the organ only, but the ‘Hymn-tunes,” as we call them, 
such as are ordinarily used in the worship of the church. 
In the days of Watts and Wesley hymns were numbered 
by thousands, and tunes, suitable to sing them to, by 
dozens. It was Wesley’s practice to seize upon any song 
of the theater or the street, the moment it became popular, 
and make it carry some newly written hymn into the homes 
of the people. The practice has outlived him, and many of 
the church tunes of the day began their career in secular 
connections. Greenville, which we use with the words: 
“Tord dismiss us with thy blessing,” first appeared in a 
very short-lived opera in France, and later as a love song 
in England with the title, “Rosseau’s Dream.” Kirk White’s 


xViil A LAY SERMON 


hymn, “When Marshalled on the Nightly Plain,” we sing 
to the tune of the Scotch song “Bonnie Doon.” One of 
Fanny Crosby’s sweetest hymns is sung to the love sick 
music of “Robin Adair.” But there are others written for 
sacred use which also have their history; and interest in 
the singing of hymns will be greatly increased by “AN 
EvENING AMONG THE TUNES.” 

Many of our hymns are paraphrases or imitations of 
the Psalms, and “An EvENING WITH THE PsALMs” can be 
made instructive and profitable. I wish I were able to 
adequately describe the book from which such a service 
would be taken. It is the oldest hymn book in the world. 
Back of Wesley and Watts, back of Milton and Marot, 
back of the Bernards of Cluny and Clairvaux, back of 
St. Stephen of Mount Saba, and St. Clement of Alexandria, 
five hundred years before the time when Mary sang “Mag- 
nificat,” its latest hymn was written. And a thousand years 
still farther back its earliest song was sung. What voices 
have sung these Psalms! David, the king, sang them to 
the music of his harp; Solomon, the wise, sang them; 
Nehemiah, the great prototype of our own Seth Low, in 
the mighty task of rebuilding a nearly ruined city—he sang 
these songs and a score of other old prophets and heroes 
whose names are writ large in Bible history, and the Master 
himself sang them as he met with his disciples in that upper 
chamber. 


STORIES OF THE GREAT 
HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 


No. 1. 
“HOLY BIBLE—BOOK DIVINE!”—1805. 


JoHN Burton, 1773—1822. 


When the Rey. Dr. Thomas Stockton, one of the celebrated 
preachers of the Protestant Methodist Church, was an old 
man, he visited Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and preached one 
Sunday morning in the pulpit of his friend and former 
colleague, Rev. Alexander Clark. The church was crowded 
to its utmost capacity. Dr. Stockton was so weak that a 
high arm chair was placed for him behind the pulpit, and 
he preached sitting. His subject was the value of the Bible 
to the world, and after some introductory remarks he asked 
Mr. Clark, who sat behind him, to remove the Bible from 
the desk, and then drew a vivid word picture of what the 
world would be were there no Bible in it. Then turning 
suddenly he exclaimed, “Brother Clark, give us back the 
Bible!” and as it was placed upon the pulpit desk, he 
grasped it in both hands, and sprang from his chair, and 
clasped it in his arms, and exclaimed: 


“Holy Bible! Book Divine 
Precious treasure, thou art mine!” 


It was a dramatic act, and its effect upon the audience 
was thrilling. And then he closed with another picture, 
1 


2 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


as vivid, but more beautiful than the first, of what the 
Bible has done for the world. 

The author’s son relates that his father taught this hymn 
to him before he was able to read. 


Wore. 
“STAND UP, AND BLESS THE LORD”’—1825. 


JAMES Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


An old man lay seriously ill in England fifty years ago, 
and a friend often came in to talk and read to him. In 
earlier years this old man had written many a hymn, and 
one day he placed in the hands of his friend a manuscript 
copy of his hymns and asked to have him read from them. 
As he read, the poet became greatly affected, and the reader 
was about to stop, when he spoke up, “Read on, I am glad 
to hear you. The words recall the feelings which first sug- 
gested them. All my hymns embody some portion of the 
history of the joys or sorrows, the hopes and fears of this 
poor heart.” 

Here is one of the hymns which evidently was written in 
some time of joy. 


No. 8. 
“QO FOR THE DEATH OF THOSE”—1804. 


JAMES Montcommry, 1771—1854. 


It is not often the case that one is permitted to read his 
own obituaries, and to know what the world intends to 
say of him when he has left it. The author of this hymn 
was an exception, however, to this statement. By an error, 
the report of his death reached this country while he was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 3 


yet living, and notices of his life and career were published 
in many of the religious papers. These papers crossed the 
Atlantic, and he had the privilege of reading them. His 
hymns, which nearly every hymnal in the country contained 
specimens of, had endeared him to the Christian people 
here, and the notices of his death brought tears to his eyes 
when he found what a place he held in the affection of the 
religious world. When his death took place, it was one of 
those translations of which it can be said, “He was not, 
for God took him,” for he died in his sleep. 


No. 4. 
“WHEN JORDAN HUSHED HIS WATERS STILL”—1820. 


THOMAS CAMPBELL, 1777—1844. 


Lovers of American history and romance have probably 
all read “Gertrude of Wyoming, A Pennsylvania Tale,” 
- first published in 1809. Its author was Thomas Campbell, 
who won great distinction as a poet, but is only known in 
hymnology by this piece and one other, not often used, 
beginning “The rainbow shines! no fabling dreams.” 


No. 6. 
“HAIL TO THE LORD’S ANOINTED”’—1821. 


James Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


James Montgomery was greatly interested in the work 
of foreign missions and was in great demand as a speaker 
at the meetings of the missionary societies. At one such 
meeting held in the Wesleyan Chapel at Liverpool, April 
14, 1822, he delivered an address, and closed it by repeating 
this hymn taken from a Christmas ode he had written the 


4 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


year before. It aroused the enthusiasm of the great audi- 
ence to a very high pitch as we can easily imagine it would, 
coming fresh from the lips of its author. It is a rendering 
of the Seventy-second Psalm. Dr. Adam Clark was then 
writing his Commentary on the Bible, and he was presiding 
at this meeting. At its close he begged of Mr. Montgomery 
a copy of the hymn, and inserted it in his commentary on 
this Psalm. 


No. 6. 
“PRAYER IS THE SOUL’S SINCERE DESIRE”—1819. 


James Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


Rev. Edward Bickersteth had written a “Treatise on 
Prayer,” and asked Mr. James Montgomery to write a 
hymn on the subject of prayer suitable for publication in 
this book. This hymn was written in accordance with that 

request. : 
The first five stanzas are simply a poetic definition of 
prayer, with no claim whatever to be called a hymn, and 
yet nearly every hymn book contains them and the piece 
is very popular. 


No. 7. 
“LORD OF HOSTS! TO THEE WE RAISE”—1821. 


JAMES MONTGOMERY, 1771—1854. 


On July 9, 1821, the cornerstone of a new Church to be 
called St. George’s Church was laid at Sheffield, England. 
This was the home of James Montgomery, the poet, and he 
was asked to write a hymn to be sung at the ceremony. 
This is the hymn he wrote, and it was first sung then. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 5. 


No. 8. 
“HOW SWEET, HOW HEAVENLY IS THE SIGHT’—1792. 


Rev. JosepH Swain, 1761—1796. 


Did you ever hear a workman singing at his work and 
did you ever listen to hear what kind of a song he was 
singing? An orphan boy in Birmingham, England, was 
apprenticed to a London engraver, and there he was exposed 
to all the moral dangers that surround the young when they 
are strangers in a great city. But he became a Christian 
soon, and then to give utterance to his happiness he began 
to write hymns, and to comfort himself by singing them. 
An acquaintance overheard the singing, and took the boy to 
Church, something he had not known anything about till 
then. He became a Baptist, and soon began to preach 
himself, and then became the pastor of a little church. He 
had great success, so that the little building had to be en- 
larged, and his church members increased from 27 to 200. 
And then at thirty-five, when apparently just beginning a 
useful life, he died. 


No. 9. 


“LATE, LATE, SO LATE! AND DARK THE NIGHT AND 
CHILL.” 


Str ALFRED TENNYSON, 1809—1892. 


~Some of our hymns come from curious sources. One of 

Alfred Tennyson’s most popular works was the series of 
poems called “Idyls of the King.” Among these poems is 
one ‘entitled “Guinevere,” who was King Arthur’s Queen, 
but who at last fled from the court, and sought refuge in a 
convent. Here she was*waited upon by a little maid. Now 
listen to the story as Tennyson relates it: 


STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“So the stately Queen abode 
For many weeks unknown, among the nuns; 
Nor with them mingled, nor told her name, nor sought, 
Wrapt in her grief, for housel, or for shrift, 
But communed only with the little maid, 
Who pleased her with a babbling heedlessness, 
Which often lured her from herself: but now, 
This night, a rumor widely blown about 
Came, that Sir Modred had usurped the realm, 
And leagued him with the heathen, while the King 
Was waging war on Lancelot! Then she thought 
‘With what a hate the people and the King 
Must hate me,’ and bowed upon her hands, 
Silent, until the little maid, who brooked 
No silence, brake it, uttering, ‘Late! so late! 
What hour, I wonder, now?’ and when she drew 
No answer, by and by began to hum 
An air the nuns had taught her, ‘Late, so late!’ 
Which, when she heard, the Queen looked up and said, 
‘O maiden, if indeed ye list to sing, 
Sing, and unbind my heart that I may weep.’ 
Whereat, full willingly, sang the little maid.” 


No. 10. 
“QO FOR A CLOSER WALK WITH GOD”—1779. 


Witu1AmM Cowper, 1731—1800. 


If we can know some of the little peculiarities of an 


author, as well as the more prominent traits of his char- 
acter, we are more interested often, in what he has written. 
The author of this hymn was one of the most bashful of 
men. He held at one time the appointment of clerk to 
the Committees of the House of Lords, but gave it up be- 
cause it necessitated his appearing now and then in the 
room where they were assembled. And at his home in the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 7 


little village of Olney it was a long time before he could 
overcome his diffidence enough to offer prayer in their little 
weekly prayer meetings, although those who heard him pray 
testify that he was as gifted in that as in the writing of 
hymns. This hymn was quoted by Southey, who wrote a 
biography of Cowper as an evidence of his insanity. 


No. 11. 
“ON THE MOUNTAIN’S TOP APPEARING.” 


Rev. Tuomas Ketuy, 1769—1855. 


Thomas Kelly was an Irish boy, the son of a judge. He 
studied law, but becoming a Christian he became a clergy- 
man of the Established Church; but his preaching was too 
evangelical to suit the condition of that Church in Ireland 
at that time, and the pulpits of the Church were closed 
against him. Mr. Kelly was rich, and so, driven out of 
the Church, he built churches for himself. He was greatly 
interested in the work of foreign missions and wrote many 
hymns on this subject. Possibly we can get a glimpse of 
his character by this little conversation: An old school- 
mate met him when he was well along in years and said 
to him, “You will live to a great age, Mr. Kelly.” “Yes,” 
was the reply, “I am confident I shall, for I expect never . 
to die.” But they were both right, for he lived to be eighty- 
six even in this world. 


No. 12. 
“JESUS WHERE’ER THY PEOPLE MEET”—1769. 
Wiuui1AM Cowper, 1731—1800. 
“QO LORD OUR LANGUID SOULS INSPIRE”—1769. 


Rev. Jonn Newton, 1725—1807. 


In the little village of Olney more than a hundred years 
ago there lived in adjoining houses two intimate friends. 


8 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


One was William Cowper, a despondent invalid; the other 
Rev. John Newton, curate of the parish. There was in 
the village an unoccupied residence, which because of its 
size as compared with the other cottages, was called ‘The 
Great House.” John Newton and William Cowper carried 
on a little social weekly prayer meeting in the village, and 
in 1769 this was removed to “The Great House,” and 
Newton decided to celebrate the event by a new hymn which 
should be first sung on that occasion. So he and his friend 
Cowper, each composed one and these are the hymns they 
wrote. Newton’s hymn is often found with a different 
beginning. “Dear Shepherd of Thy people hear.” 


No. 13. 
“MY LORD, HOW FULL OF SWEET CONTENT’”—1702. 


MapaMeE JEANNE B, Dz La Morte Guton, 1648—1717. 


Madam Guion was a French woman, who suffered a great 
deal through the unkindness of friends, the death of a 
child, and her own sickness which at the age of twenty-two 
_ left her disfigured for life. She belonged to the sect called 
“Quietists,”’ whose name explains quite well their peculiar 
views. She wrote a book in which was given an account of 
what was called the “Prayer of Silence,” in which not only 
is there no utterance by the voice, but even the mind, instead 
of turning from one request to another, simply concentrates 
itself upon the thought “Thy will be done.” This work was 
greatly feared by the Romanists, who collected it by hun- 
dreds and burnt all they could collect. She was imprisoned 
twice for her religious views, and then banished. Some of 
her hymns were written from behind prison walls, and 
this one in the first year of her banishment, so that its 
language is that. of her own experience. It was written in 
French and translated by William Cowper. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 9 


No. 14. 
(See No. 169.) 


“SHOW PITY, LORD, O LORD, FORGIVE”—1719. 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A young man once complained of the hardening effect 
upon himself of a severe sermon on sin to which he had 
listened, and he was asked to read this Psalm. He attempted 
to do so, but his feelings as he read nearly overcame him, 
and at last when he reached the words “I am condemned 
but Thou art clear,’ he burst into tears and rushed from 
the room. From that day his life was that of a converted 
man. 


No. 168. 
“NOT ALL THE BLOOD OF BEASTS”—1709. 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A London City Missionary relates the story that a 
Jewess found this hymn printed on a piece of paper that 
came into the house as a wrapper for a piece of butter. 
Its reference to the sacrificial rites of her own church fixed 
it in her mind, and she could not shake off the impression 
it produced. She was led by it to a reading of the Bible 
and to an acceptance of Christ as her Savior. In conse- 
quence of her religious change her husband forsook her, 
and she lived in poverty, but remained faithful to Christ 
to the end of life. Do you know, I dislike to burn up even 
a scrap of paper that has anything good printed or written 
on it? Who knows if I spare it what eye may see it, or 
what heart may be comforted by it? 


10 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 16. 
“THE GOD OF ABRAHAM PRAISE”—1770. 


Rev. THomas Ouivers, 1725—1799. 


In 1729, in a little village in England, a little boy four 
years old lost both his parents. He was taken by a farmer 
until he was eighteen, and then bound out as an apprentice 
to a shoemaker. By this time he had become about as 
bad as a fellow could be, so bad indeed, that he soon had 
to leave that neighborhood. After wandering from town 
to town, he went to Bristol, and there he heard Whitefield 
preach. The text was “Is not this a brand plucked out of 
the fire?” That sermon resulted in his conversion. I don’t 
know as I can give you any better evidence that his con- 
version was genuine than by saying that as he had wandered 
about before his conversion he had left small debts owing 
to many people; and as soon as he was converted he retraced 
his steps from town to town, and with money he made at 
his trade repaid the sums he owed. In the year 1772, Mr. 
Olivers was visiting a friend in Westminster and one day 
strolled into a Jewish synagogue when he heard a celebrated 
Hebrew air sung by the priest, Signieur Leoni. Mr. Olivers 
was so captivated by the singing and by the melody that 
he resolved at once to write.a Christian hymn to suit it, 
and the hymn was written before the visit ended. Although 
Mr. Olivers had had but little education, this hymn has 
been called one of the finest pieces in the English language. 
The Jewish priest gave him the melody, and it received his 
name “Leoni.” In a note published with the original tract 
in which this hymn appeared are references to sixty passages 
of scripture used ‘or illustrated by the hymn. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 11 


No. 17. 
“GOD CALLING YET! SHALL I NOT HEAR?”—1730. 


GERHARD TERSTEEGEN, 1697—1769. 
Translated by Miss Jane Borthwick, 1825. 


A German boy was on a journey, and while walking 
through a forest alone he was seized by violent spasms 
that threatened his life. He prayed earnestly that he 
might be spared in order that he might better prepare him- 
self for eternity. His prayer was answered, and he at once 
dedicated himself entirely to Christ. 

His father was dead, and his mother was poor, and to 
support her and himself he had already, when only fifteen 
years old, gone into a little business. There are one or 
two remarkable things about him. One is that finding the 
business he had entered upon to be one that interfered with 
his religious life, he left that business and chose another 
not open to that objection. Later on, to give himself still 
more time for religious work, he divided his business with 
a partner, and still later, to have all his time for evangelis- 
tic work, of which he did a great deal, visiting from house to 
house among the poor and the sick, he gave up his business 
entirely. His house became known as “The Pilgrims’ Cot- 
tage,” and it became the resort of multitudes of the poor and 
sick. They came for medicine and food, and clothing and 
comfort, and never were disappointed. And so he filled up 
his life with useful deeds, and they were all done in honor 
of and in imitation of the Christ to whose service he had 
dedicated his life. Coming from such a man as this, does 
not this hymn have a new and deeper interest for us? 

He wrote a form of dedication of himself to Jesus in his 
own blood when twenty-seven. 

He wrote more than one hundred hymns. 


12 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 18. 
“BEHOLD THE SAVIOUR OF MANKIND”—1709. 


Rev. Samus WESLEY, 1662—1735. 


On February 9, 1709, the rectory of the little town of 
Epworth in Lincolnshire, England, was burned to the ground. 
Not much was saved from the fire. Not much, did I say? 
Two things were saved; almost by a miracle a six-year-old 
boy was rescued from the burning building; and by the 
saving of that life the moral history of the world was — 
changed; for that boy was John Wesley, the founder of 
that great and valiant wing of the Christian army we 
know as Methodists. The other thing that was saved was 
a piece of paper somewhat singed by the flames, but legible 
yet, containing a piece of music and the words of a hymn, 
written by the rector whose house had been burned, who 
was none other than Samuel Wesley, the father of John 
and Charles Wesley, and of seventeen other Wesleys as 
well. This is the hymn that was saved. There never was 
a house burned from which so much was saved from the 
flames. 

In 1803, a boy of fifteen named Samuel Rollerson was a 
baker’s apprentice at Hilton, England. At this time a 
number of French prisoners were located near by, and young 
Rollerson’s business frequently led him to the barracks. 
Methodism in those days had found its way into the army, 
and religious services were often held in an out-building 
belonging to the barracks. Samuel, whose mind had for 
some time been exercised on religious subjects, was admitted 
into these meetings and at one of them, while the hymn 
beginning “Behold the Saviour of mankind!” was being 
sung, he found his way to the Cross, the sin burden fell off, 
and the rough stable became to him the gate of heaven. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 13 


No. 19. 


“RISE, CROWNED WITH LIGHT, IMPERIAL SALEM, 
RISE!”—1712. 


ALEXANDER Popr, 1688—1744, 


It was John Dryden, the poet, who translated from the 
Latin the hymn beginning: 


“Creator, Spirit, by Whose aid.” 


One day he was sitting in a coffee house in London; the 
door opened and a friend of Dryden’s brought in a delicate 
little boy twelve years old, who was eager to see the 
celebrated poet and had persuaded the gentleman to take 
him into the coffee house. The boy became a greater poet 
than the man he had been so curious to see, for he was 
Alexander Pope. He was a Roman Catholic, and that is 
no doubt the reason why he wrote no poems intended, 
when he wrote them, for hymns, for written in English at 
the time when he lived, his Church would have refused to 
use them. In the Spectator, a daily paper published in 
London, for Wednesday, May 14, 1712, Joseph Addison, 
one of the editors, said: “I will make no apology for enter- 
taining the reader with the following poem, which is written 
by a great genius, a friend of mine in the country who is 
not ashamed to employ his wit in the praise of his Maker.” 
Then follows a poem entitled “Messiah,” and beginning: 


“Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the song!” 


From this poem no less than five hymns have been taken 
for use in our hymn book, and this is one of them. 


14 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 20. 
“VITAL SPARK OF HEAVENLY FLAME”—1712. 


ALEXANDER Popr, 1688—1744. 


This hymn, if indeed it is to be called by that name, is 
not only an imitation but a growth. There is a love poem 
by Sappho 600 years before Christ, and later a poem by 
the Roman Emperor Adrian (A. D. 138) written when he 
was dying. Pope says that he had both of these in his 
mind when he wrote. Then just before the time of Pope, 
Thomas Flatman made a translation of Adrian’s poem and 
improved upon the sentiment, and last of all Pope im- 
proved upon his own version at the request of Mr. Steele, 
editor of the Spectator. Adrian only spoke of death in 
dim and timid uncertainty. Thomas Flatman rose a little 
higher and wrote of a life beyond, that might be better and 
could not be worse than this; but Pope, the Christian, 
concludes his poem with the Scripture words: 


“O grave, where is thy victory! 
O death, where is thy sting!” 


No. 21. 
(See No. 164.) 


“ALL PRAISE TO THEE, ETERNAL LORD’—1524. 


Rev. Martin LutHer, 1483—1546. 


Four hundred years ago, a little boy fourteen years of 
age was sent away from home to school, at Magdeburg. 
His father was too poor to support him, and he earned 
his bread by singing ballads in the streets: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 15 


“Foxes to their holes have gone, 
Every bird into its nest; 
But I wander here alone, 
And for me there is no rest.” 


A year later he was sent to another town where he had 
relatives who it was hoped would assist him, but they 
neglected him. As he was singing his plaintive little song 
one day before a house, the wife of the man who lived in 
it saw him and took him in. Her house became his home 
and -she his benefactress, and he to please her learned to 
play on the flute and the lute. This was Martin Luther, and 
his own experience of the power of song in boyhood, led him 
to give it a very high place of importance in after years. 
When he was deep in the contest with the Church of Rome, 
he gathered a band of men at his own house who were 
skilled in music, and they arranged the hymns he had written 
to the favorite tunes of the German people, and then he 
had the hymns and the tunes printed on slips and circu- 
lated all over the land, until Luther’s hymns and Luther’s 
tunes were in the mouths of all the people. And the 
priests said, “Luther has done us more harm by his hymns 
than by his sermons.” 


No. 22. 
“NOW THANK WE ALL OUR GOD”’—1644. 


Rev. Martin Rinxart, 1586—1649. 


Martin Rinkart was a cooper’s boy, and because his 
father was too poor to educate him, he supported himself 
by his musical skill while he studied theology. It is not 
always the case that a prophet has no honor among his 
own people, and Rinkart came back to the town of his 
birth and boyhood to be the pastor of their Church. He 
lived among them through a terrible pestilence which raged 


16 STORIES OF THE GREAT 

in 1637, and then through a famine which followed it. The 
Thirty Years’ War was also raging, and he was in full sym- 
pathy with his people in all these troubles. The Swedish 
army besieged. their town and demanded thirty thousand 
thalers of the people. It was a sum far beyond their 
ability to pay, and Rinkart went out to the enemy’s camp 
to intercede for his townsmen. Failing in this, when 
he returned he called on the people to gather for prayer, 
and God answered their request; and the Swedish com- 
mander consented to terms they were able to meet. Awhile 
after, in 1644, as Rinkart was sitting at his study window, 
he heard the sound of a trumpet, coming nearer and nearer. 
His heart sank within him, for he thought the soldiers of 
one side or the other were about to be quartered ‘again 
upon the town. Just then his wife came in and told him 
that the people in the street were all gathering about a 
horseman who had just come in and had surely brought 
some great news, for the people were shouting at the top 
of their voices. Rinkart hurried out, and as he went his 
people gathered about him to tell him that the horseman 
brought the news that a treaty of peace had been signed 
and the long war was over. Rinkart went back to his study 
and offered up a prayer of thankfulness, and then seated 
himself at his desk, and continued his thanksgiving by writ- 
ing this hymn. As he finished it, a melody seemed to 
strike his ear, and, taking up his pen, again he wrote music 
for his hymn. The tune to which the hymn is usually 
sung, however, is one that was composed for it by Johann 
Kriiger, who lived at the same time as the author of the 
hymn. This tune is usually called “Nun Danket,” these 
being the first German words of the hymn, but in some 
books it is known as “Wittenberg.” This is said to be the 
best known tune in the world. In Germany, at midnight, 
on New Year’s eve, it is the custom of every orthodox house- 
hold to sing this hymn to this tune. It has also become 
a very popular tune in England. It has been often used 
in Germany on occasions of note. In Stuttgart in 1816- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 17 


1817 there was a great famine, and on July 28, 1817, the 
first load of wheat from the new crop, which gave promise 
that the famine was over, entered the town. It was deco- 
rated with flowers, and the people made the day one of 
festival and thanskgiving, and in the service this song was 
sung. The hymn is based on the Apocryphal book of 
Ecclesiasticus. The first two stanzas are a paraphrase of 
Eccles, 50:22-24, which was the text of the Swedish chap- 
lain on New Year’s day, 1649, when thanksgiving services 
were held upon the reestablishment of peace. 


No. 23. 
“TEACH ME, MY GOD AND KING.” 


Rev. Grorce Hersert, 1593—1633. 


George Herbert, born three hundred years ago (1593), 
has been called the prince and model of all country parsons. 
When fifteen, he went to Trinity College at Cambridge, 
and soon after he sent home to his mother (his father was 
dead) a little poem, as a testimony, as he told her, that his 
“noor abilities in poetry should be all and ever consecrated 
to God’s glory.” That was a good beginning, and he kept 
his vow as long as he lived. His whole life, as we look at 
it through the vista of three centuries, was a continuous 
poem, and it was all a song of praise to God; until at 
last, just the Sunday before he died, he arose from his bed 
and took his lute on which he had loved to play for nearly 
his whole life, and as he took it he said: 


“My God, my God, 
My music shall find Thee, 
And every string 
Shall have his attribute to sing.” 


18 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


It was he who wrote that hymn so much admired, 
beginning: 


“Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
Bridal of earth and sky.” 


No. 24. 
“COME, HOLY GHOST, IN LOVE. SHED ON US.” 
HeRMANNUs Contractus, 1013—1054. 


Vent Sancte Spiritus. 


In the year 1013 there was born a boy to whom they gave 
the name of Herman. When he was seven years old, he 
stood but a poor chance in the world. He was “bowed, 
before and behind, and crippled and lame.” That is to 
say, he was humpbacked, with a bent chest, otherwise de- 
formed, and withal a paralytic. He was the son of a count, 
and counts in those davs were expected to do hard riding 
and hard fighting. Little Herman could do neither, so he 
was carried off to a convent called the Convent of St. Gall, 
to be made into a monk. If you search for his name in his- 
tory under the family name, you will not find it, for every- 
where he is spoken of under a nickname which his crippled 
body suggested — Hermannus Contractus, which means 
Herman the cripple. He grew to be a master of verse, and 
is said to have written “many thousands” of songs, but 
they are now unknown. It is now supposed that he wrote 
this hymn which is now so celebrated. 

This translation of it is by Rev. Ray Palmer. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 19 


No. 26. 


“O MORNING-STAR, HOW FAIR AND BRIGHT.” 
“WAKE, AWAKE, FOR NIGHT IS FLYING”’—1598. 


Rey. Putiurp Nicowar, 1556—1608. 


In the town of Unna, Westphalia, in 1597, there raged a 
dreadful pestilence which carried off more than fourteen 
hundred persons. Dr. Philip Nicolai was the Lutheran 
pastor in this town and from his window saw the almost 
constant burial processions, and quite naturally his thoughts 
were much about death and the future world. He wrote 
his thoughts and published them for the good of others and 
added to them these two hymns. For the last of the two 
the tune is said also to have been composed by Nicolai, and 
harmonized by Jacob Pretorius, the organist of his Church. 

The translations are by Miss Catherine Winkworth. 


No. 26. 
“THE LORD DESCENDED FROM ABOVE.” 


THOMAS STERNHOLD, 1500—1549. 


In a little town named Awre, in Gloucestershire, England, 
there is to be seen recorded in the parish register this 
statement: “Let it be remembered for the honour of this 
parish of Awre, that from it first sounded out the ‘Psalms 
of David in English Metre, by Thomas Sternhold and John 
Hopkins.’ ” 

Thomas Sternhold held the office of “Groom of the Robes,” 
to Henry VIII and Edward VI of England. He was him- 
self a pure man, and was so greatly scandalized by the 
obscene and wicked songs that were in common use in the 
court that he undertook to provide a higher and purer 
material by turning into English metre some of the Psalms 
of David. This explains the peculiar language in the title 


20 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


which he gave to his collection. “Very mete to be used of 
all sorts of people privately for their godly solace and com- 
fort; laying apart all ungodly songes and ballads which 
tend only to the nourishing of vice and corrupting of 
youth.” The courtiers, however, preferred their old songs, 
and would not sing Sternhold’s Psalms. But the poetry 
and music were both better than any that had been com- 
posed at that time, uncouth as they seem now, and so 
they were adopted to be sung in parish churches. Among 
all the pieces in that old collection, but two or three have 
been thought worthy to live, and then usually in greatly 
altered form, but one stanza of this Psalm is just as Stern- 
hold wrote it, and it is so nearly a perfect gem that it will 
probably live to the end of time. It is what is here used 
as the two first stanzas of the hymn. 


No. 27. 
“LET US WITH A GLADSOME MIND”—1624. 


JoHN Mixton, 1608—1674. 


It has been said of Milton that “his youth and his old 
age he devoted to himself and his fame; his middle life 
to his country.” This rendering of the One Hundred Thirty- 
sixth Psalm was one of the products of his youth, having 
been written when he was a boy at school and fifteen years 
of age. As every one knows he wrote “Paradise Lost.” 
Just as it was finished a Quaker friend, Thomas Ellwood, 
was visiting him, and read the poem. Then he said to 
Milton, “Thou hast said much here of Paradise Lost; what 
hast thou to say of Paradise Found?” Later, Ellwood vis- 
ited Milton again, and had placed in his hand a copy of 
“Paradise Regained,” of which Milton said to him, “This 
is owing to you, for you put it into my head by the question 
you asked me, which before I had not thought of.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 21 


No. 28. 
“SHEPHERD OF TENDER YOUTH.” 


CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA, 150—220. 


This hymn takes us farther back in point of time than 
any other hymn known. It is usually ascribed to Clement 
who died about the year 217, although he himself speaks of 
it as if he had quoted it from an author earlier still. He 
is supposed to have been born at Athens so he may have 
heard his grandfather tell of hearing Paul preach on Mars 
Hill. He was a heathen, however, but an earnest student. 
He found his way to Alexandria in Egypt, where was then 
the greatest library in the world, and here he fell under the 
teaching of a Christian teacher, and became a convert him- 
self. His hymn as he wrote it was a catalogue of names 
applied to Christ; and the translation of it, as you will see, 
only follows that idea in a very general way. Something 
of the circumstances under which Clement lived and wrote 
can be gathered from the following, “Daily, martyrs are 
burned, beheaded, and crucified before our eyes.” 

The translation is by Rev. Henry M. Dexter, who says, 
“T first translated it literally into prose and then transfused . 
as much of its language and spirit as I could into the hymn.” 


No. 29. 
“THE ROYAL BANNERS FORWARD GO”—575. 


Vexilla Regis prodeunt. 


VENANTIUS Fortunatus, 530—609. 


In addition to their value for purposes of worship some 
of our hymns have an interest attaching to them because 


22 STORIES OF THE GREAT. 


of their connection with important events in history. This 
is one of that sort. In 1670, messengers were sent out 
among all the Indian tribes of the Northwestern territory, 
inviting them to meet a representative of the King of France 
at the Sault St. Marie, which is the narrow stream connect- 
ing Lake Superior with Lake Huron. At the appointed time 
in the spring of 1671, the chiefs of fourteen tribes with their 
warriors and families were camping on the little stream 
awaiting the arrival of the great Frenchman of whom they 
had heard. On his arrival, one fine day in June of that 
year, he led his soldiers fully armed to the top of a little hill 
which overlooked the camp. The Jesuit priests accompanied 
in their robes of office, and all about them were gathered the 
wondering Indians. They had brought with them a cross, 
and after one of the priests had pronounced upon it a bless- 
ing, it was planted on the hill top, while all the priests and 
soldiers who could join them sang in the Latin tongue the 
words of this hymn: 


“The Royal banners forward go, 
The Cross shines forth with mystic glow!” 


and then in the name of the King of France, St. Lusson, 
who led the expedition, took possession of the land to the 
ocean beyond them, and the gulf to the south. 

The translation is by Rev. John Mason Neale. 


No. 30. 
“MY GOD, I LOVE THEE! NOT BECAUSE.” 


Francis Xavier, 1506—1552. 


Written by a Jesuit priest and missionary. He went to 
India where he labored with extraordinary zeal and self- 
devotion, both among the natives and the vicious Europeans 
whom he found there. His enthusiasm rose above all fear, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 23 


and Cross in hand singing hymns as he went, he used to 
venture amongst the worst of the heathen confident of 
success. 


No. 31. 
“SWEET THE TIME, EXCEEDING SWEET”—1779. 


Rev. Grorcr Burper, 1752—1832. 


George Burder was one of the active, industrious, useful 
ministers of a hundred years ago. The profession chosen for 
him was that of an artist, but after preaching awhile as a 
lay preacher, he gave up his artistic pursuits and was 
ordained. He originated the London ‘Religious Tract So- 
ciety,’ which has for a century almost, occupied the same 
field in Great Britain as the American Tract Society has 
in this country. He saw a need among the smaller villages 
of volumes of sermons, written in a manner and upon sub- 
jects of interest to them, and he prepared, one after another, 
eight volumes of such sermons, which had an enormous sale, 
reaching nearly a million copies before his death. This 
hymn was first published in the London Evangelical Maga- 
zine, April, 1779, and its original purpose can be gathered 
from its title, “An Hymn for Christian Company.” 


No. 32. 
“Q JESUS CHRIST, GROW THOU IN ME”—1780. 


Rev. JoHANN Caspar Lavater, 1741—1801. 


Some one has said that every one ought to have a hobby. 
Now here is a man who had a hobby. He lived 150 years 
ago in Switzerland, and was curate of a church in Zurich. 
He began to study the faces of his friends to see if he could 
tell their characters from their countenances. Then he 


24 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


extended his study to people whom he met and gathered 
pictures of people of whom he had heard; and at last he 
published a book, on “Physiognomy,” in which he tried to 
prove by these faces which he had gathered and classified 
that character conformed to the outline of the face. 

But he did better work than this, for he preached good 
sermons, set a good example of Christian living and wrote 
many good hymns, of which this is one. 


No. 38. 
“T KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVES”—1789. 


Rev. SamMueL Meptey, 1738—1799. 


This hymn is a good illustration of a peculiarity of 
Medley’s hymns. He delighted in repetition or alliteration. 
Here are sixteen lines and fourteen of them begin with the 
same two words. Dozens of his hymns exhibit the same 
peculiarity. His hymns illustrate the different conditions 
under which people lived and worked then. Books and 
printed matter were not so plentiful, and Medley, whenever 
he composed a hymn, printed it on a “broadside,” as it was 
then called, for distribution among the people. After a while 
these broadsides were SA together into a little book, 
and published. 


No. 84. 
“AM I A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS?”—1720. 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Tn the time of Doddridge and Watts it was a very common 
practice for the minister to write a hymn appropriate to 
the subject upon which he preached, and to give it out at 
the close of the sermon. The method then in vogue of lining 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 25 


out, two lines at a time, made this feasible. The minister 
could read the hymn he had prepared as the closing of the 
sermon, and the clerk could then line it out for the singers. 
Nearly all of Doddridge’s hymns were written to be so used, 
and it was no unusual thing for Watts. This hymn was in 
this way read at the close of a sermon preached in 1727 
entitled “Holy Fortitude or Remedies against Fear’; and 
the text was “Stand fast, quit you like men, be strong.” Its 
appropriateness to the subject is apparent, and its effect 
upon an audience must have been great, when read for the 
first time at the close of such a sermon, by the author him- 
self. The hymns named below were all written for such 
occasions by Rev. Isaac Watts. 


“Blest Redeemer, how divine!” 


Text: “All things whatsoever you would that men should do 
to you, do ye even so to them.” (Matthew, 8:12.) 


“Awake my zeal, awake my love.” 


Text: “Whether life or death .. . all are yours.” (I Cor- 
inthians, 3:22.) 


Watts wrote three sermons and three hymns on this text: 


“What shall the dying sinner do?” 


Text: “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, for it is 
the power of God unto salvation to every one that be- 
lieveth.” (Romans, 1:16.) 

“And is this life prolonged to me?” 


Text: “Whether life or death, . . . all are yours.” (I Cor- 
inthians, 3:22.) 


Watts wrote three sermons and three hymns on this text. 


26 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
“Questions and doubts be heard no more.” 


Text: “He that believeth on the Son of God hath the wit- 
ness in himself.” (I John, 5:10.) 


“How is our nature spoiled by sin.” 


Text: “Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation.” 
(Romans, 3:25.) 


“Do I believe what Jesus saith?” 


Text: “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, what- 
soever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, what- 
soever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, 
whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue 
and if there be any praise, think on these things.” (Phil- 
lipians, 4:8.) 


“Jesus! Thy blessings are not few.” 


Text: “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ; for it is 
the power of God unto Salvation to every one that 
believeth.” (Romans, 1:16.) Preached in 1723. 


“Father of Glory! to Thy name.” 
Text: “For through Him we both have access by one Spirit 
unto the Father.” (Ephesians, 2:18.) Preached in 1727. 
“O that I knew the secret place!” 


Text: “Oh that I knew where I might find Him! that I 
might come even to His seat! I would order my cause 
before Him, and fill my mouth with arguments.” (Job, 
23:3-4.) Preached in 1721. 


“O happy soul that lives on high!” 


Text: “For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in 
God.” (Colossians, 3:3.) Preached in 1721, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 27 
“Do flesh and nature dread to die?” 
Text: “Followers of them who through faith and patience 
inherit the promises.” (Hebrews, 6:12.) 
“Must friends and kindred droop and die?” 


Text: “Whether life or death, . . . . all are yours.” (I Cor- 
inthians 3:22.) Watts wrote three sermons and three hymns 
on this text. 


The hymns named below were all written for such occa- 
sions by Rev. Philip Doddridge (1702—1751). 
“Great God of heaven and earth arise.” 
Written for a Fast Day, January 9, 1739. 


“Hark the glad sound, the Saviour comes!” 


Luke, 4:18-19, It is the passage beginning, “The Spirit of 
the Lord is upon me, because He hath anointed me to 
preach the gospel to the poor,” etc.; and the sermon was a 
Christmas sermon preached December 28, 1735. 


“Shepherd of Israel, bend Thine ear.” 
This hymn was composed “at a meeting of ministers at 
Bedworth, during their long vacancy.” (April 10, 1735). 
“Arise, my tenderest thoughts, arise.” 


Text: “I beheld the transgressors and was grieved: because 
they kept not Thy word.” (Psalm 119:158.) Preached 
June 10, 1739. 


“Lord of the Sabbath! hear our vows.” 


Text: “There remaineth therefore a rest to the people of 
God.” (Hebrews, 4:9.) Preached January 2, 1736. 


28 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
“O God of Bethel by whose hand.” 


Text: “And Jacob vowed a vow,” etc. (Genesis, 28:20- 
22.) Preached January 16, 1736. 


“Grace! ’tis a charming sound.” 


Text: “By grace ye are saved.” (Ephesians 2:5.) Dodd- 
ridge is not much more than the translator of this hymn. 
A Moravian woman, Esther Griinbeck, born at Gotha in 
1717 and dying in 1796, wrote a hymn beginning “Grace! 
grace! Oh that’s a joyful sound,” and her hymn is probably 
the foundation for this one by Doddridge. 


“Sovereign of all the worlds on high.” 


Text: “And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the 
Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.” 
(Galatians, 4:6.) 


“How gentle God’s commands.” 


Text: “Casting all your care upon Him, for He careth for 
you.” (I Peter, 5:7.) The last two lines contain an espe- 
cially beautiful thought—exchanging a burden for a song. 


“O happy day that fixed my choice.” 


Text: “And all Judah rejoiced at the oath: for they had 
sworn with all their heart, and sought him with their whole 
desire: and he was found of them and the Lord gave them 
rest round about.” (II Chronicles 15:15.) 


“Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve.” 


Text: “Not as though I had already attained, either were 
already made perfect; but I follow after, if that I may 
apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ 
Jesus. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 29 


“Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but 
this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, 
and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I 
press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of 
God in Christ Jesus.’ (Philippians, 3:12-14.) 


“My gracious Lord, I own Thy right.” 


Text: “But if I live in the flesh, this is the fruit of my 
labor: yet what I shall choose I wot not.” (Philippians, 
1:22.) 

“God of my life, through all my days.” 


Text: “While I live will I praise the Lord: I will sing praises 
unto my God while I have any being.” (Psalm 146:2.) 


“Great Source of being and of love!” 


Text: Ezekiel, 47:1-12. It is the parable of healing the 
waters of the Dead Sea, by the waters of the Sanctuary. 


“The Saviour when to heaven He rose.” 


Text: “And He gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; 
and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers: 
For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the 
ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ.” (Ephe- 
sians, 4:11-12.) The occasion was the ordination of the 
Rev. Abraham Tozer, June 20, 1745. 


“Let Zion’s watchmen all awake.” 


Text: “Obey them that have the rule over you,” etc. 
(Hebrews 13:17.) The special occasion being the ordina- 
tion of a minister at Floore, in Northamptonshire, England, 
October 21, 1736. 


“See, Israel’s gentle Shepherd stands.” 


Text: “But when Jesus saw it, He was much displeased, and 
said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, - 


30 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God.’ 
(Mark, 10:14.) 
“The King of Heaven His table spreads.” 
Text: “And the servant said, Lord, it is done as thou hast 
commanded, and yet there is room.” (Luke, 14:22.) 
“And will the great eternal God.” 


Text: “And of Zion it shall be said, This and that man was 
born in her; and the Highest himself shall establish her.” 
(Psalm, 87:5.) The special occasion was the opening of a 
new meeting house at Oakham, England. 

“Jesus, my Lord, how rich Thy grace.” 


Text: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least 
of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matthew, 
25:40.) 


“Father of mercies, send Thy grace.” 


Text: the Parable of the Good Samaritan. (Luke, 10:30- 
37.) 


“These mortal joys how soon they fade.” 
“Rich are the joys which cannot die.” 


These are alterations of the same hymn. Text: “Provide 
yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens 
which faileth not.” (Luke, 12:33.) 

“Awake ye saints and raise your eyes.” 


Text: ‘Now is our salvation nearer than when we believed.” 
(Romans, 13:11.) 


“How swift the torrent rolls!” 


Text: “Your fathers, where are they?” (Zechariah, 1:5.) 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 31 
“Ye golden lamps of heaven farewell.” 


Text: “The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither 
for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the 
Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God 
thy glory. 

“Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon 
withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, 
and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.” (Isaiah, 
60: 19-20.) 


“Eternal Source of every joy.” 


Text: “Thou crownest the year with thy goodness.” 
(Psalm, 65:11.) 


“Now let the feeble all be strong.” 


Text: “There hath no temptation overtaken you but such ag 
is common to all men: but God is faithful who will not suffer 
you to be tempted above that you are able, but will with the 
temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able 
to bear it.” (I Corinthians, 10:13.) Preached June 24, 
1739. 


“Now let our mourning hearts revive.” 


Text: “Moses, thy servant is dead,” etc. (Joshua, 1:2, 4, 
5.) Preached August 22, 1736, on the death of a minister 
at Kettering. 


“Thrice happy souls, born from heaven.” 


Text: “Let not thine heart envy sinners: but be thou in 
the fear of the Lord, all the day long.” (Proverbs, 23:17.) 
Preached March 27, 1737. 


“Jesus! I love Thy charming Name.” 


Text: “Unto you that believe He is precious.” (I Peter, 
2:7.) Preached May 8, 1737. 


32 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
“Now let our cheerful eyes survey.” 


Text: “And Aaron shall bear the names of the children of 
Israel in the breast-plate of judgment upon his heart.” 
(Exodus, 28:29.) His subject being, “Christ bearing the 
names of his people on his heart.” 


“Behold the amazing sight.” 


Text: “And I, if I be lifted up will draw all men to me.” 
(John, 12:32.) Preached May 8, 1737. 


No. 365. 
“FATHER, WHATE’ER OF EARTHLY BLISS.” 


Miss ANNE STEELE, 1716—1778. 


Miss Anne Steele was engaged to be married. The prep- 
arations were all made for the wedding. Some of the guests 
had already arrived and she was momentarily expecting the 
arrival of her lover, when a messenger came with the intelli- 
gence that he had just been drowned. Her reason almost 
fled at the sudden shock. It has been said that this hymn 
was the result of this early experience, but this is doubtful 
-as her whole life was a succession of trials to any of which 
the hymn might have applied with equal appropriateness. 
The truth probably is that her trials led to a spirit of resig- 
nation and contentment which pervaded all her hymns. 


No. 36. 


“SINCE ALL THE VARYING SCENES OF TIME”—1746. 


Rev. JAMES Hervey, 1714—1758. 


In the year 1729, a few students at Oxford banded them- 
selves together under the leadership of John Wesley, and 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 33 


agreed that they would attend regularly every week the 
Sacrament of the Church, and observe the method of study 
prescribed by the University. It is safe for us to surmise 
from the fact that this band numbered only a few students, 
that to be faithful to the Church and the school was the 
exception and not the rule; and this is all the more certain 
from the fact that this little band brought down upon them- 
selves the sneers of the other students who gave to them 
what they thought was the ridiculous nickname of ‘‘Method- 
ists.” And in this little band we have the germ of the 
great religious denomination which now bears this name. 
James Hervey, the author of this hymn, was a member of 
this band. 


No. 37. 
“LOVE DIVINE ALL LOVE EXCELLING”?—1749. 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


We are apt to think of a poet doing his work in some 
quiet room, with books, and pictures, and statuary, and 
flowers perhaps, about him, and this hymn seems just one 
of the sort to be composed amid such surroundings; but 
there is no probability that it was written under any such 
circumstances. Charles Wesley was for a great part of his 
life a traveling preacher, going from village to village, now 
preaching in some Methodist home to the family and neigh- 
bors, and again in some churchyard, with a tombstone for 
his platform. His traveling was done on horseback, and he 
carried little cards in his pocket, on which he used to write 
hymns in shorthand as he jogged along the road, he and his 
horse. Then, when on his journey he would reach an inn, 
he would rush in and ask for pen and ink, and would write 
out the hymn he had composed, and mounting his horse, ride 
on-again. Once he wrote in his journal, “Near Ripley my 
horse threw and fell upon me. My companion thought I 


34 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


had broken my neck; but my leg only was bruised, my hand 
sprained, and head stunned, which spoiled my making 
hymns till the next day.” 


No. 388. 
“COME LET US WHO IN CHRIST BELIEVE”—1741. 


Rev. CuHarutes WesLry, 1708—1788. 


The two Wesleys were in their day the great champions 
of what was called the Arminian doctrine, which has ever 
since been the distinguishing doctrine of the Methodist 
Church, and a theological warfare was hotly waged between 
them and the followers of Calvin, such as Whitefield, 
Toplady, and others. One of the weapons used with great 
effect by the Wesleys was a series of hymns, each bearing 
upon the question at issue, and which, under the title of 
“Hymns of God's Everlasting Love,” they spread broadcast 
among the people in the form of tracts. This is one of these 
theological swords with which its author sought to slay the 
Calvinists. 


No. 39. 
“HOLY AS THOU, O LORD, IS NONE”—1762. 
Rey. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


Did it ever occur to you how the Scriptures have been 
duplicated in our hymns? Not only their doctrines, but 
their historical facts have been restated in verse. The 
Psalms have been paraphrased in whole or in part by scores 
of poets, and selected passages from every book of the Bible 
have been made the subject of similar paraphrases. Rev. 
Samuel Wesley, the father of John and Charles, put the 
whole New Testament into verse, and Charles Wesley in 
addition to versifying most of the Psalms and writing many 
hymns based on Scripture passages, wrote nearly thirty-five 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 35 


hundred (3,491) short hymns which were practically para- 
phrases of verses selected from Genesis to Revelation. This 
hymn is one of these on I Samuel, 2:2. 


No. 40. 
“LET EARTH AND HEAVEN AGREE”—1741. 
Rev. Cuartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


In the time of the Wesleys the theological warfare between 
Calvinism and Arminianism was hotly waged. The Wesleys 
were the champions of the Arminian faith and lost no oppor- 
tunity for setting forth their views. One of their weapons 
in the contest was the hymn. They wrote quite a number 
for this special purpose, each setting forth some tenet of the 
Arminian creed, and these they distributed widely in the 
form of tracts, and afterward in collected form with the title 
of “Hymns on God’s Everlasting Love.” (1741). This was 
one of these hymns written to fight the Calvinists with. 
The doctrine of the last two lines: 


“For all my Lord was crucified; 
For all, for all, my Saviour died.” 


was a favorite one with Charles Wesley. In another of his 
hymns on the same subject, he uses the extravagant phrase: 


“Take back my interest in Thy Blood 
Unless it streamed for all the race.” 
No. 41. 
“COME, SINNERS, TO THE GOSPEL FEAST’—1747. 
Rev. CuHartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


One day more than a century ago (it was in 1790) a man — 
stood under the old elm on Boston Common and began to 


36 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


sing. It was his method of calling together a congregation, 
for he was a preacher who had just come to the city from 
Connecticut, and his preaching had attracted great atten- 
tion wherever he had been. This hymn was the song he 
sung: “Come, sinners, to the Gospel feast,”’ and the event is 
a notable one because the sermon. preached then and there 
was the first Methodist sermon ever preached in Boston, 
and it marked the beginning of Methodism in that region. 
The singer was a notable man in his time, Jesse Lee, who 
won for himself the title of the “Apostle of Methodism in 
New England.” 


No. 42. 


“THERE IS NO FLOCK HOWEVER WATCHED AND 
TENDED.” 


Henry W. LoncreLttow, 1807—1882. 


If you should ever see the journal of Henry W. Long- 
fellow, you would find away back in 1847, the record of the 
birth of a little daughter who was named Fannie for her 
mother. And a little over a year later you would find an 
entry, “Little Fannie is quite ill and lies patient and mourn- 
ful. All thoughts center on the little sufferer—which way 
will the balance of life and death turn?” Then he comforts 
himself by putting in a stanza of the old German hymn of 
Paul Gerhardt: 


“Give to the winds thy fears, 
Hope and be undismayed. 
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears, 
God shall lift up thy head.” 


And a few days later you would find this, “A day of agony. 
The physicians have no longer any hope. I cannot yet 
abandon it. Motionless she lies—only a little moan now 
and then . , . lower and lower. Through the silent deso- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 37 


late rooms the clocks tick loud, and they all seem laboring 
on, to the fatal hour.” And then he writes of her death. 
And while in this sorrow the father wrote a poem called 
“Resignation,” which is often used as a funeral hymn when 
children are dead: 


“There is no flock however watched and tended 
But one dead lamb is there. 
There is no fireside howsoe’er defended 
But has one vacant chair.” 


No. 48. 


“I KNOW NOT THE HOUR WHEN MY LORD WILL 
COME”—1870. 


Puiuip Buiss, 1838—1876. 


At the great Moody and Sankey revival services in 
Boston in the winter of 1876, there was one singer whose 
voice next to that of Mr. Sankey himself the great audi- 
ences most delighted to hear. His songs were written by 
himself and sung to music of his own composing, and were 
full of Christian experience. One evening he rose to sing 
and he prefaced his singing by saying, “I don’t know as I 
shall ever sing here again, but I want to sing this as the 
language of my heart”; and then he sang his own song just 
written: . 


“T know not the hour when my Lord will come 
To take me away to His own dear home: 
But I know that His presence will lighten the gloom, 
And that will be glory for me.” 


A few days later, while riding to his home in Chicago, the 
train crashed through a rotten bridge at Ashtabula, Ohio, 
and Mr. Bliss and his wife were burned to death. 

The hymn was suggested by reading the well-known 
book, “The Gates Ajar.” 


38 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 44. 
“JESUS CHRIST OUR TRUE SALVATION.” 


Rev. JoHN Huss, 1369—1415. 


We have many hymns that were written by people who 
were at some time imprisoned for their fidelity to their con- 
victions, and some that were actually written behind prison 
bars, but this is the only one I remember that was written 
by a martyr. John Huss was a Bohemian reformer. He 
was excommunicated by the Romish Church; then his writ- 
ings were collected and burned; then he was imprisoned, and 
finally on July 6, 1415, his own birthday, he was burnt at 
the stake. 

The translation is by Rav. R. F. LirrLepa.e. 


No. 46. 
“BEHOLD THE MOUNTAIN OF THE LORD.” 


MicHaeEu Bruce, 1746-1767. 


Michael Bruce was the son of a Scotch weaver. He was 
a bright boy and as pious as bright. When only a child he 
sometimes led in the family devotions at home. His parents 
were poor, and in order to maintain himself at school during 
the summer he taught a school himself in the winter. He 
belonged to a singing class in the village where they lived, 
and at the teacher’s request he wrote some songs to be used 
in place of some which the teacher thought unsuitable. One 
of these was an “Ode to the Cuckoo,” and twelve were 
hymns, and many members of the class learned them by 
heart. But the poor boy worked and starved himself to 
death, and when twenty years old he returned to his father’s 
home to die. The next spring he was too weak to longer sit 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 39 


up and walk about, but he wrote an “Elegy on Spring.” 
Just listen to one stanza of it: 


“Now Spring returns, but not to me returns 
The vernal joy my better years have known; 
Dim in my breast life’s dying taper burns, 
And all the joys of life with health are flown.” 


He had intended to publish his poems while yet he lived, but 
his strength waned; and so he spent his last days in selecting 
and transcribing such as he thought worthy of preservation. 
This he did in bed, and he died in that year only twenty-one 
years old. The manuscript he left was given by his parents 
to a friend of their dead boy, Rev. John Logan, to be pub- 
lished for their benefit. Awhile after he published a book 
which he claimed contained them, but it was found only to 
have a few, and these the poorest; but a number of years 
later Logan published a book of poems as of his own compo- 
sition, and lo and behold! here were the songs of Michael 
Bruce, stolen by his friend and published as his own. This 
hymn was one of these. 


No. 46. 
“QO MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM.” 


D. Dickson, 1583—1663. 


This hymn and the one beginning “Jerusalem my happy 
home” have a common origin and are slightly different 
forms of the old hymn of Bernard of Cluny, and possibly all 
are of still earlier origin in a hymn of Gregory’s. Many 
years ago a young Scotchman lay on his deathbed in New 
Orleans. He was visited by a Presbyterian minister, but 
for some time he seemed to shut himself up from all the 
minister’s attempts to reach his heart. Discouraged, the 
visitor turned away, and scarcely knowing what he did 


40 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


began to sing to himself, “Jerusalem, my happy home, name 
ever dear to me.’ Unconsciously he had touched a tender 
chord in the sick man’s heart, for he exclaimed, “My mother 
used to sing that hymn’; and through the gateway of this 
song the minister found entrance to his heart for the Gospel 
message, 


No. 47. 
“THERE IS A LAND OF PURE DELIGHT.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


Dr. Watts was born at Southampton on the south coast 
of England. The city stands, as those of you know who 
have landed there from any of the steamers from this coun- 
try, between two bodies of water, and looks out toward the 
open sea, of which the Isle of Wight intercepts the view. 
Across the stream was the ‘‘New Forest” as it was called, 
with its green meadows. It was this view which as a boy 
Watts often saw, that tradition says, suggested the imagery 
of this hymn, only part of which is given here, for it begins 
with the well-known lines, “When I can read my title clear.” 


No. 48. 


“WHEN RISING FROM THE BED OF DEATH”—1712. 


JosEPH Appison, 1672—1719. 


For account of Addison and the Spectator, see No. 49. 

This hymn appeared in the Spectator, Saturday, October 
18, 1712, at the end of a prose article, in which occur these 
words: “Among all the reflections which usually arise in the 
mind of a sick man, who has time and inclination to con- 
sider his approaching end, there is none more natural than 
that of his going to appear naked and unbodied before Him 
Who made him.” And this is the key-note of the hymn. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 41 


No. 49. 


“WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, 0 MY GOD”—1712. 


JosEPH ADDISON, 1672—1719. 


There is a famous old school in London known as the 
Charterhouse. Two hundred years ago, two boys were 
schoolmates and playmates there. One was very much of 
a romp, never well out of one scrape before he was in 
another, while the other was a studious, well-behaved boy, 
who took all sorts of prizes in school for progress and 
deportment. Yet the two boys were chums, and always 
together. They kept up the friendship until manhood and 
through life. The newspapers of that day were pretty poor 
from every point of view and poorest of all from a literary 
standpoint. They had little indeed to attract anyone. 
These two boys, now grown to manhood, whose names by 
the way were Richard Steele and Joseph Addison, started a 
daily paper of a new and better kind than anything before 
known. They called it The Spectator. The “Spectator” 
was an imaginary character supposed to be a gentleman of 
high culture, who had traveled abroad, and was now living 
in London. Here he walked of a morning among the banks 
and business houses, and later to the theaters and concerts 
and clubs. He knew all the fine ladies and gentlemen, and 
wherever he went he was always observing, always com- 
menting, always criticizing. But he was a bashful man and 
only talked to a few intimate friends. One of these has ever 
since been a celebrated man because of the talks the ‘“Spec- 
tator” had with him, and we have often heard of him under 
the name of Sir Roger De Coverley. The new paper lived 
only about a year, but while it lived it was all the go in 
London. Gentlemen read it over their breakfasts, and ladies 
in their parlors; and, “Have you read The Spectator?” 
became the common question when acquaintances met. 


42 STORIES OF THE GREAT — 


Steele and Addison furnished most if not all the matter, and 
it differed from any other paper then published in that its 
tone was moral and pure. Every Saturday Addison pub- 
lished in it an essay distinctively religious, and at the end 
of most of them he placed a religious poem. This hymn, 
containing thirteen stanzas, was appended to an article en- 
titled “Praise to God,” which appeared in The Spectator, 
August 9, 1712. 


No. 50. 
“THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT ON HIGH”’—1712. 


JosmepH AppIsoN, 1672—1719. 


(See No. 49 for notice of the author and The Spectator.) 


This hymn appeared in The Spectator, August 23, 1712, 
at the close of an essay on “The Right Means to Strengthen 
Faith.” 


No. 1. 
“THE LORD MY PASTURE SHALL PREPARE”—1712. 


JosEPH AppIson, 1672—1719. 


(For notes on author see No. 49.) 


This hymn appeared in The Spectator for July 26, 1712, 
at the end of an essay on “Trust in God.” In the essay there 
is this beautiful sentence, “The person who has a firm trust 
in the Supreme Being, is powerful in His power, wise by His 
wisdom, happy in His happiness. He reaps the benefit of 
every Divine attribute, and loses his own insufficiency in 
the fullness of Infinite perfection.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 43 
No. 82. 


“O, SOMETIMES THE SHADOWS ARE DEEP.” 


Erastus JOHNSON, 1826— 


A poor hymn, with little poetic merit, and no particularly 
important religious sentiment, is often brought into great 
popularity because of its fortunate setting to a tune that 
strikes the popular fancy. Some of the so-called “Gospel 
hymns” and many of the Sunday school hymns are of this 
character; and on the other hand it is equally true that 
many a hymn that touches closely human experience and 
does it with poetic grace remains unused because it is wedded 
to a poor tune. I have in mind such a hymn. I know its 
author. I have worked with him, and slept with him. A 
man with true poetic genius, and deep piety. His whole life 
has been a struggle with poverty and disappointment, and 
sorrow, but he has always been true to his convictions and 
true to his God. He was born in Maine, and with the 
Yankee restlessness he has swapped farms from Maine to 
California and back again; and now, an old man, still strug- 
gling, still hoping, he is waiting for one more swap, by which 
he will exchange a little, barren, worn-out farm in Maine 
for a home in the fair fields of heaven. 

This hymn is like the attar of roses, every stanza is the 
expressed fragrance of a thousand of life’s roses crushed. 
Listen: 


“Oh! sometimes the shadows are deep, 
And rough seems the path to the goal: 
And sorrows, sometimes how they sweep, 
Like tempests down over the soul. 
Oh! then to the Rock let me fly 
To the Rock that is higher than I. 


“Oh sometimes how long seems the day, 
And sometimes how weary my feet! 


44 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


But toiling in life’s dusty way 

The Rock’s blessed shadow, how sweet! 
Oh! then to the Rock let me fly, 

To the Rock that is higher than I. 


“Oh! near to the Rock let me keep, 
If blessings, or sorrows prevail: 
Or climbing the mountain way steep, 
Or walking the shadowy vale. 
Then quick to the Rock I can fly, 
To the Rock that is higher than I. 


There is the hymn, beautiful and true, but it has been 
set to an unsingable tune, and the tune has sunk the hymn. 


No. 6&8. 
“JESUS SHALL REIGN WHERE’ER THE SUN.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


On Whitsunday, 1862, on one of the Samoan Islands in 
the South Pacific, there was gathered a wonderful assem- 
blage. More than five thousand of the natives of the dif- 
ferent islands were gathered there under the spreading 
branches of the banyan trees. Foremost among them sat 
the King of all the islands, King George the Sable. All 
around him were seated his old chiefs and warriors, who had 
shared with him the dangers and fortunes of many a battle, 
and were now assembled about him to join in the ceremony 
by which he and all the islands under his authority formally 
abandoned heathen chiefdom, and adopted a Christian form 
of government. Most of those present had been born as 
heathen and many of them had been cannibals: now they 
were, nominally at least, a Christian people, and the King 
himself was a preacher of the gospel. What would Isaac 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 45 


Watts have thought, if he could have listened, while that 
great audience began their solemn service by singing the 
hymn he had written a century and a half before, when 
no missionary society had begun its work? 


No. 64. 
“GOD IS THE REFUGE OF HIS SAINTS.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


The Rev. Luke Scott was a Methodist missionary to 
Trincomalee, Ceylon. In 1863, soon after he landed, he 
was conducting a service in the chapel and had almost 
reached the end of the first hymn. The people were singing: 


“Zion enjoys her Monarch’s love, 
Secure against the threatening hour.” 


when all at once the shock of an earthquake was felt, accom- 
panied by a noise resembling that produced by a heavy 
train going over a wooden bridge. The congregation was 
thrown into alarm, but the preacher calmly gave out the 
next lines: 


“Nor can her firm foundations move 
Built on His faithfulness and power.” 


Then came the second shock very much louder than the 
first and accompanied by an awful shaking: the noise, 
too, was very strange, too complex for description. The 
alarm of the people increased as the building seemed to 
reel as though it would fall to the ground. Notwithstanding 
this, the service was proceeded with, Mr. Scott preaching 
from “I sought the Lord, and He heard me, and delivered me 
from all my fears.” 

Rev. Joun B. Srmon, in Wesleyan Methodist Magazine, 

September, 1880. 


46 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 56. 
“FROM GREENLAND’S ICY MOUNTAINS”—1819. 


Rev. RecrnaLD Hesper, 1783—1826. 


A general collection had been called for in all the Churches 
of England, to be taken up on Whitsunday, 1819. A young 
rector was visiting Dr. Shipley, his father-in-law, just at 
that time, and on Saturday Dr. Shipley said to the young 
minister, “Write something for them to sing in the morning.” 

So the young man went over to another part of the 
room, and soon the doctor shouted, “What have you 
written?” and the three stanzas which had already been 
completed were read to him. 

“There, there, that will do very well.” 

“No! no! the sense is not complete yet.” And so he added 
a fourth stanza, and the Dean stopped him, and would not 
let him write any more. 

“Tet me add one more stanza,” said the young man, but 
the Dean was inexorable. And so our Missionary Hymn 
has but four stanzas, when its author wanted to give us 
five. It was printed on slips that evening and sung by the 
people next morning, but two or three years later the words 
found their way to this country, and fell into the hands of 
a lady in Savannah, Georgia, who liked them so much that 
she was anxious to find a tune to suit them. She ransacked 
her books in vain, and then happened to remember that 
down the street there was a young bank clerk who was 
thought to have considerable musical talent. So to him 
she went with the hymn and asked if he could write a 
tune to fit it. He complied, and in a half hour handed her 
the tune that with the words is sung all over the world as 
the “Missionary Hymn.” The Savannah bank clerk was 
Lowell Mason. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 47 


No. 86. 


“ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME”—1776. 


Rev. Aucustus Montacur Topuapy, 1740—1778. 


An English widow and her boy sixteen years old were 
visiting in a country place in Ireland. The mother was a 
member of the Church of England, and the boy was accus- 
tomed to its service. One night he wandered past a barn 
in which an uneducated but earnest layman was preaching. 
The text was Ephesians 2:13: “But now in Christ Jesus 
ye who sometimes were far off, are made nigh by the Blood 
of Christ.” Speaking of that text long after he said, “It 
was from that passage Mr. Morris preached on that mem- 
orable evening. Strange, that I who had so long sat 
under the means of grace in England, should be brought 
nigh unto God in an obscure part of Ireland, amidst a 
handful of God’s people met together in a barn, and under 
the ministry of one who could hardly spell his name.” This 
boy was Augustus Montague Toplady, author of this hymn. 

If any of us could have gone into a little parish Church 
in a quiet village in the eastern part of Devonshire, about 
the time our national Declaration of Independence was 
issued, we should have found a vicar leading the devotions 
of the people, who was thus described: “He had an ethereal 
countenance and light, immortal form. His voice was music. 
His vivacity would have caught the listener’s eye, and his 
soul-filled looks and movements would have interpreted his 
language, had there not been such commanding solemnity 
in his tones as made apathy impossible, and such simplicity 
in his words that to hear was to understand. From easy 
explanations he advanced to rapid and conclusive arguments, 
and warmed into importunate exhortations, till conscience 
began to burn, and feelings to take fire from his awe-kindled 
spirit, and himself and his hearers were together drowned 


48 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


in sympathetic tears.” This is a word picture of Augustus 
Montague Toplady and his preaching. 


In the Gospel Magazine for March, 1776, there appeared 
an article on the National Debt of England. Its enormous 
amount was given, how much was the annual interest; and 
the article ended with these questions and answers: “How 
doth the Government raise this interest annually? By tax- 
ing those who lent the principal and others. When will the 
Government be able to pay the principal? When there is 
more money in England’s treasury alone than there is at 
present in all Europe. And when will that be? Never.” 
Following this article the editor, Mr. Toplady, proceeded 
to write what he called “A Spiritual Improvement of the 
Foregoing,”’ in which he tried to estimate how many sins 
each of the human race had committed, supposing he broke 
some law of God once a day, twice a day, once an hour, and 
so on, and then he asks the same questions concerning these 
debts we owe to God, that had been asked as to the debt 
owed by the Government of England. ‘When shall we be 
able to pay off this debt we owe to God? Never. But will 
not God accept of us less than we owe, and so enable us 
to pay? Impossible!” And then he turns to Christ as the 
only hope. “Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of 
the law, and then he gives this hymn.” 


Gladstone has translated this hymn into both Latin and 
Greek, but it has been also translated into a great many of 
the living languages of the world, as well as into the dead 
ones. Rey. Dr. Pomeroy, during a tour through Eastern 
countries, found his way into an Armenian Church in Con- 
stantinople, while the congregation were singing. The 
words he could not understand, but it was evident that the 
singers were singing “with the understanding”, and were in 
earnest in their song. All sang with closed eyes, as if in 
prayer, and as the melody proceeded, he saw that tears 
were starting here and there and trickling down the singers’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 49 


cheeks. He was interested to know what words could 
awaken such emotions, and found that it was a translation 
into their language of our English hymn “Rock of Ages.” 


No. 57 
“T ASK NOT NOW FOR GOLD TO GILD.” 


JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER, 1807—1892. 


In the town of Haverhill, Massachusetts, there lived a 
Quaker farmer, with an industrious, hard-working boy. He 
had few advantages of school or books, but he improved 
such as he had, and now and then wrote a bit of poetry. 
While he was still a farmer’s boy, he sent, with great timi- 
dity, one of these little poems to the editor of a little paper 
published in the neighbouring town of Newburyport. The 
editor going to his office one day found the poem tucked 
under the door. It was written on coarse paper in blue 
ink, and thinking it was mere worthless rhyme, he was 
about to throw it into the waste basket, when he suddenly 
changed his mind, and read it through. He thought he 
discerned in it the genius of true poetry, and published it. 
Soon other poems came from the same source, and at last 
the editor, who was none other than William Lloyd Gar- 
rison, afterward the great apostle of anti-slavery, inquired 
of the postman where these letters came from, and got the 
reply that he believed they ,were sent by a farmer’s boy 
over in East Haverhill. ‘I will ride over and see that 
farmer’s boy,” said Mr. Garrison, and when he went he 
found the young poet at work with his father on the farm. 
This was the introduction to the world of literature of 
John Greenleaf Whittier, “the Quaker Poet,’ who wrote 
this hymn, and whose poetry has been probably more widely 
read than that of any other American poet unless it be 
H. W. Longfellow. 


50 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 58. 


“LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT! AMID THE ENCIRCLING 
GLOOM”—1833. 


Rev. JouN Henry Newman, 1801—1890. 


John -Henry Newman was a clergyman of the Church 
of England, and one of the leaders in what was called the 
“High Church Party.” At the time this hymn was written 
he was on a voyage in the Mediterranean Sea. He was sick 
in body and depressed in spirits. A great discussion was 
going on in the Church at home, in which he had borne a 
leading part, and in which he took an intense interest. He 
was wavering in his own views, not of personal faith, but 
as to whether he should remain in the Church of England 
or go over to the Roman Catholic Church. He was honestly 
and earnestly seeking for light, and this hymn, written 
there on shipboard in the Mediterranean Sea, was his 
prayer for guidance. To him the answer came that led 
him some years later to join the Romish Church, and he 
became one of its Cardinals, and one of its ablest men. 
But seekers for light and guidance of all religious faiths 
are using his hymn, and finding it helpful. 


No. 59. 
“WHAT OUR FATHER DOES IS WELL.” 


Rev. BENJAMIN SCHMOLKE, 1672—1737. 


Benjamin Schmolke, a Silesian, wrote this hymn in Ger- 
man. It was a hymn for farmers to be sung when the 
harvests were bad, but by the translation into English 
has been made one of our best hymns of submission to the 
Will of God, in all the events of life. Schmolke wrote more 
than a thousand hymns. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 51 


No. 60. 
“WALK IN THE LIGHT! SO SHALT THOU KNOW.” 


BrrnarpD Barton, 1784—1849. 


Bernard Barton was a Quaker, and in England bore 
the title of the “Quaker Poet,” as Whittier has borne it in 
America. At twenty-six, he became clerk in a bank in 
England, and stayed there forty years until he died. After 
he had been there thirty years and more, he said in a letter 
dated the eleventh month, sixteenth day of 1843, “I took 
my seat on the identical stool I now occupy at the desk to 
the wood of which I have now well-nigh grown, in the 
third month of the year 1810, and there I have sat for 
three and thirty years beside the odd eight months without 
one month’s respite in all that time. I often wonder that 
my health has stood this sedentary probation as it has and 
that my mental faculties have survived three and thirty 
years of putting down figures in three rows, casting them 
up and carrying them forward, ad infinitum.” 


No. 61. 
“JESUS! I LOVE THY CHARMING NAME.” 


Rev. Pururp DoppripGr, 1702—1751. 


In 1702, almost two hundred years ago, in London, there 
was born a boy, the twentieth child of his mother, and at 
his birth he seemed too feeble to live; but live he did, and 
when a child his mother used to show him the pictures on 
the Dutch tiles with which their fireplace was adorned and 
tell him the story about them. They represented Bible 
scenes, and so his mind was stored with Bible stories, and 
with them Bible truths, before he could read them himself. 


52 ‘STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Later he became a minister, a teacher, and an author. He 
it was who wrote the book called “The Rise and Progress 
of Religion in the Soul,” which had a circulation unequalled 
perhaps by any other book in that century. As was the 
custom with many preachers in those times he usually ended 
his sermons with a hymn written to enforce the truth he 
had been preaching upon. One Sunday he preached a 
sermon from the text “Unto you that believe He is precious.” 
(I Peter, 2:7.) and he wrote this hymn to be sung at the 
close of that sermon. 


No. 62. 
“OQ THOU, FROM WHOM ALL GOODNESS FLOWS.” 


Rev. THomas Hawets, 1732—1820. 


What the author of this hymn thought about the way 
church singing should be conducted may be gathered from 
what he said in the preface to a hymn book he compiled 
and in which this hymn appeared in 1792. He wrote: 
“Even in our public worship the voice of joy and gladness 
is too commonly silent, unless in that shameful mode of 
psalmody, now almost confined to the wretched solo of a 
parish clerk, or to a few persons huddled together in one 
corner of the church, who sing to the praise and glory of 
themselves, for the entertainment or oftener for the weari- 
ness of oe congregation; an absurdity too glaring to be 
overlooked, and too shocking to be ridiculous.” 


No. 63. 
“JESUS, THY BLOOD AND RIGHTEOUSNESS.” 


This hymn has required the work of three people to 
prepare it for our use. Paul Eber was a German Lutheran 


° 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH ; 53 


who was born in 1511, and died in 1569. He was one of 
Luther’s friends and Melanchthon’s, too. The first stanza 
of this hymn, which then began, “Jesus, Thy robe of right- 
eousness,” he wrote. Count Zinzendorf (1700-1760) was 
a Bohemian Nobleman, and a noble man. He wrote two 
thousand hymns, and later improvised them on the occasions 
when they were used. He was a preacher as well as a 
poet, and was the protector and patron of the Moravians, 
when they were driven out of their home in Austria. He 
visited their missionaries in the West Indies, and on the 
Island of St. Eustatius he took this stanza of Paul Eber’s 
and added thirty-two more of his own. Then came John 
Wesley, the founder of Methodism, and translated the 
whole into English in 1740. 


There is a sweet little story told how Queen Christiana 
of Prussia saw one day a very beautiful little girl, a 
daughter of the palace gardener, playing among the flowers, 
and had the child brought to her in the palace and placed 
in a chair near her at dinner time. She was enjoying in 
anticipation the delight and surprise she thought the child 
would show at the beautiful things about her, but instead 
of looking about at these things the little girl quietly bowed 
her head, and before all the guests at the dinner of the 
Queen, she softly repeated a translation of the first stanza 
of this hymn: 


“Christ’s dear Blood and righteousness 
Be to me as jewels given. 
Crowning me when I shall press 
Onward through the gates of heaven.” 


54 . STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 64. 
“THE LORD MY SHEPHERD IS.” 


Rey. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


It may not be amiss now and then for us to do a little 
“looking backward,” and to compare our hymns with those 
our ancestors sang. When the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth 
Rock in 1620, they brought with them “Ainsworth’s Psalms.” 
This had a prose translation of each Psalm and a para- 
phrase in so-called verse. Here is his version of this Psalm. 


“1. Jehovah feedeth me, I shall not lack. 

2. In grassy folds, he down dooth make me lye: 
he gently-leads me, quiet waters by. 

3. He dooth return my soul: for his name sake, 
in paths of justice leads-me-quietly. 

4. Yea, though I walk, in dale of deadly-shade, 
ile fear none yll; for with me thou wilt be: 
thy rod thy staff eke, they shall comfort me. 

5. Fore me, a table thou hast ready-made; 
in their presence that my distressers be: 
Thou makest fat mine head with ointing-oil; 

6. my cup abounds. Doubtless good and mercie 
shal all the dayes of my life folow me: 
also within Jehovah’s howse, I shal 
to length of days, repose-me-quietlie.” 


This Twenty-third Psalm is one of the easiest of the 
whole 150 to versify, and you can easily imagine what 
some of the more difficult ones would be under the spell 
of Ainsworth’s muse. A few years later the worthy Pilgrims 
became discontented with these Psalms, and clamored for 
something better; so certain of their own ministers set to 
work on an improvement, and soon produced what is known 
as “The Bay Psalm Book.” For a hundred years and more 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 55 


this was the New England hymn book; and here is the same 
Psalm as they sang it: 


a 1e 


2. 


The Lord to me a shepherd is, 
Want therefore shall not I, 

He in the folds of tender grass 
Doth make me down to lie; 

He leads me to the waters stili. 
Restore my soul doth he; 

In paths of righteousness he will 
For his name sake lead me. 


In valley of death’s shade although 
I walk, I’ll fear none ill: 

For thou me with thy rod, also 
Thy staff me comfort will. 


Thou hast fore me a table spread 
In presence of my foes: 

Thou dost anoint with oil my head, 
My cup it overflows. 


Goodness and mercy my days all 
Shall surely follow me: 

And in the Lord’s house dwell I shall 
So long as days shall be.” 


Perhaps we can by comparison with these two paraphrases 
of this familiar Psalm as our ancestors sang it, appreciate 
the beauty of the one we now use, by Isaac Watts. It 
contains only four more words than the English translation 
of the Psalm as we have it in the Bible, and a pleasant way 
to sing it is to repeat the Bible verse as we remember it and 
then sing the corresponding verse of the hymn, to the tune 
of “Dennis.” 


During the civil war a soldier from a New England home 
was marching upon the enemy with fixed bayonet and at 


56 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


a double quick time. While thus running to meet what he 
felt might be sudden death, these lines flashed through his 
mind: 
“The Lord my Shepherd is, 
I shall be well supplied; 
Since He is mine, and I am His, 
What can I want beside?” 


The thought came, “Oh, how I wish I could say, ‘The 
Lord my Shepherd is!’” Then, suddenly, while rushing on, 
he turned the wish into a resolve, and said, ‘““The Lord my 
Shepherd shall be!’”’ Relating his experience months after- 
wards to a company of Christian Commission Delegates, 
he said, “and, dear friends, He has been ever since.” 

H. Porter Smitu, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, 
in Congregationalist, November 1, 1888. 


No. 65. 


Miss Auice Carry, 1820—1871. 
Miss PHorse Carry, 1824—1871. 


In a family of-nine children in a little settlement in Ohio 
sixty years ago, there were two sisters whose names have 
more frequently been spoken together than separately. 
Their parents were poor; so poor that one of the sisters 
said that “the first fourteen years of my life it seemed as if 
there was nothing in existence but work. The whole family 
struggle was just for the right to live free from the curse 
of debt.” Worn out with the care of so great a family, 
the mother died when they were young, and a step-mother 
soon’ took her place. The girls wanted to read at night 
when their work was done, but she would not give them 
candles; but the girls got saucers of lard, and a rag, and by 
that light they read and wrote. They had one secret which 
they kept) from:each other, and that was that each wrote 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 57 


poetry. And so they went along side by side, together, 
each guarding her secret from the other until, when she was 
fourteen, Phoebe wrote a poem that was accepted and pub- 
lished in a paper. Alice, her sister, was four years older, 
but it was three years later before she got a poem into print. 
This was the childhood of Alice and Phoebe Carey. 


No. 66. 
~JROUS, SILL LEAD ON?-T 721: 


Count Nicuouas Louis’ ZinzenvorF, 1700—1760. 


The author was Nicholas Louis Zinzendorf, a Bohemian 
Count, and one of the most remarkable men of the eigh= 
teenth century. When a child he used to gather children 
together to pray, and wrote letters to the Saviour. From 
eleven to sixteen he was at school at Halle, and formed 
himself and his companions into a religious order named 
the “Order of the Mustard Seed,” with its mottoes and 
insignia; so that the Y. M. C. A. and the Y. P.S. of C. E., 
cannot claim to have been first in banding young Christians 
together in organized form. He began hymn writing when 
only a boy, and continued it all his life long, and some of 
his hymns were improvised. He used to preach, too, and 
said that “after the discourse I generally announce another 
hymn appropriate to the subject. When I cannot find one 
I compose one.” He wrote in all about two thousand hymns. 
He was also a great believer in singing as a means of reli- 
gious improvement, and organized meetings for practice. 
He had a wonderful memory and would often sing stanzas 
from various hymns and intersperse them with stanzas of 
his own composed at the moment. 

This hymn was translated by Jane Borthwick, an English 
lady. ; 


58 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 67. 
“LORD, IT BELONGS NOT TO MY CARE.” 


Rev. Ricuarp Baxter, 1615—1691. 


The present age is none the better that it has set aside 
so many of the books that proved helpful to past genera- 
tions. The older people of today will remember that when 
libraries were smaller, and books in laymen’s houses fewer, 
“Baxter’s Call,” and “Baxter’s Saints’ Rest,” were two of 
the “old stand-bys,” depended upon to bring the children 
into the kingdom, and to comfort those already in. Nothing 
worth mentioning distinguished the boyhood of Baxter. He 
was chaplain of one of Cromwell’s regiments and after the 
Restoration was chaplain to Charles Second. He was im- 
prisoned once for the character of his preaching. Later 
he was fined for a paraphrase of the New Testament, and 
being unable to pay the fine was again imprisoned. This 
hymn was written in the latter part of his life, and is the 
experience of a persecuted, sick man, tired of life, yet willing 
to live, and leaving the whole affair to God. He entitled 
it “The Covenant and Confidence of Faith,’ and at the 
end of it he wrote this note, “This covenant my dear wife 
in her former sickness subscribed with a cheerful will.” 
She was already dead, but she had been a great comfort 
to him, having shared some of his prison life with him. 


No. 68. 
“HOW BRIGHT APPEARS THE MORNING STAR.” 


Rev. Pump Nicouar, 1556—1608. 


In the town of Unna, in Westphalia, in 1597, there raged 
a dreadful pestilence which carried off above fourteen hun- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 59 


dred persons. Dr. Philip Nicolai was the Lutheran pastor 
there and saw from his window the almost constant burial 
- processions. Naturally his thoughts were much about death 
and the future world, and for the benefit of others he pub- 
lished his thoughts in a book, to which he added two hymns 
written at this time, this being one of the number. The 
music for it he arranged himself from a popular secular song. 
It was translated by two brothers-in-law, Philip Pusey and 
Algernon Herbert. 


No. 69. 
“IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST I GLORY.” 


JoHN Bowrine, 1792—1872. 


It is a singular fact that one of the favorite hymns of 
Trinitarians was written by a Unitarian. John Bowring 
was an English Knight, and can claim to have been almost 
a universal genius, or at least to have distinguished himself 
in many and quite different departments of life. He was 
a prominent writer in defense of the principles of Unitarian- 
ism. He sat in the English Parliament for ten years, and 
was the consul of that government at Canton, and later 
the Governor of Hongkong, and went on a special political 
mission to Siam. He wrote a biography of Jeremy Bentham, 
the Unitarian theologian, books of travel in the Philippine 
Islands and in Siam, a book of morals for young people, 
books on commercial affairs: studied the Russian language 
and published a book of Russian poetry translated into 
English; did the same with Spanish, the Dutch, the 
Polish, the Hungarian, and the Bohemian. And even 
this list only partly tells the story of his life work. The 
first line of this hymn is inscribed on its author’s 
tombstone. 


60 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 70. 
“COME, HOLY SPIRIT, HEAVENLY DOVE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A young man, who had been a leader of gay companions, 
was induced one evening to attend a religious meeting, and 
the Word of God to which he listened went lke an arrow 
to his heart. To stifle his convictions he went to a public 
house near by where he and his companions often spent 
the nights in revelry. His talent for singing made him a 
welcome comer always, and he was called on for a song. 
He began some rollicking piece, but in the very midst of — 
it the words all seemed to vanish from his memory, and he 
tried in vain to recall them. But in their place there came 
rushing into his mind, the words, probably learned in boy- 
hood, at church, or home: 


“Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
With all Thy quickening powers. 

Come shed abroad a Saviour’s love, 
And that shall kindle ours,” 


As he had before left the house of prayer, he now left 


the house of revelry, with humbled pride, and shortly after 
he began a Christian life. 


No. 71. 
“THERE WERE NINETY AND NINE THAT SAFELY LAY.” 


Miss ExizasetH C. CLEPHANE, 1830—1869. 


A lady in Scotiand, reading the parable of the Good 
Shepherd, was much impressed with the thought of Christ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 61 


leaving the glories of heaven, and becoming a seeker of 
men who had gone astray, and she put her thoughts’ into 
verse. The little poem was published in a religious maga- 
zine in Scotland, and so drifted into newspapers in various 
places. This was in 1868. Six years later Moody and 
Sankey, after a series of wonderful revival meetings through 
Scotland, were on the way from Edinburgh to Glasgow to 
hold a farewell meeting there. Glasgow had been the scene 
of perhaps their most successful work, and this meeting 
promised to be one of great interest. Mr. Sankey wished 
to introduce some new hymn which would represent Christ 
as a compassionate and all-sufficient Saviour. Before get- 
ting on the train he gathered up at a newsstand several 
papers to read on the cars, and in one of them he found 
these verses. “There,” said he; “that’s just the hymn I 
have been wanting for the Glasgow meeting.” 

Next day, as he tells it, “This little tune or chant that 
it is set to came to me,” and before he had written the tune 
down upon paper, he put the little newspaper scrap before 
him on the organ, and sang it to the people. And now a 
very strange thing occurred: away in the gallery there sat 
a lady who was at first startled and then greatly affected 
at the song; and she sent a little note to Mr. Sankey 
saying, “I thank you for having sung my dead sister’s 
hymn.” 


No. 72. 
“NOW IS THE ACCEPTED TIME.” 


JoHN Dose, 1757—1840. 


A hundred years ago, if we had visited a Baptist Church 
in Skinner Street, Poole, in Dorsetshire, England, we should 
have noticed conspicuous among the worshipers a very tall 
man; and if we had asked who it was, we should have been 


62 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


told it was “Old Doble.” “Old Doble’s” real name was 
John Dobell, a somewhat remarkable and eccentric man 
whose occupation was that of port gauger of liquors. His 
wife was a member of the church, but his name does not 
appear upon its records. He had considerable leisure, which 
he used mostly in the writing of religious books. One day 
he visited a lady who was sick, and she said to him, “I 
wish I could see before I die a hymn book full of Christ and 
His Gospel, and without any mixture of freewill or merit.” 
Such a hymn book he set himself to compile. He contributed 
to it about twenty of his own compositions, this hymn among 
the number. 


No. 73. 
“COME YE DISCONSOLATE, WHERE’ER YE LANGUISH.” 
Tuomas Moorg, 1799—1852. 


Tom Moore was an Irish boy, the son of a Dublin grocer. 
He was a youthful prodigy, and when only a child excited 
admiration by his recitations. When fourteen years of age 
his verses were so well written as to appear in the Dublin 
Magazine, While a young man, he became an actor in a 
theatre at Kilkenny, and fell in love with one of the actresses 
and married her. There is nothing to indicate that he 
was in any sense a Christian man or even lived with any 
very high moral purpose, and yet he wrote and published 
thirty-three “Sacred Songs,” some of which find place in 
nearly all our collections. If it may be said of Sir John 
Bowring’s hymn, “In the Cross of Christ I glory,” that it 
indicates a theology in his heart different from and better 
than that in his head, it may be said of Tom Moore’s hymns, 
that they prove that there may be a religion of the head 
which never appears in the life. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 63 
No. 74. 
“GLORY TO THEE, MY GOD, THIS NIGHT.” 


BisHorp THomas Ken, 1637—1711. 


Old Izaak Walton, the patron saint of all the fishermen, 
married a girl named Ann Ken. She had a little brother 
whose care fell upon her when his mother died, as she 
died when the little boy was five years old. When thirteen 
years of age the boy went to Winchester School, and 
although that was two hundred and fifty years ago (1650), 
his name scratched upon one of the posts is still shown to 
visitors. He became a clergyman of the Church of England, 
and later one of its bishops. He had the courage of his 
convictions and was a prisoner at one time in the Tower of 
London because of his refusal to do what he deemed a 
wrong. He was chaplain to King Charles Second at one 
time, and after a night of revelry King Charles would often 
say, “Now I must go and hear good Bishop Ken tell me 
my faults.” He never forgot his school, and composed for 
the boys who attended it a “Manual of Prayers,’ which 
became very popular. In this book he inserted three quite 
long hymns, which he entitled, respectively, “A Morning 
Hymn,” “An Evening Hymn,” and “A Midnight Hymn.” 
In his advice to the students he says, “Be sure not to omit 
the morning, evening, and midnight hymn.” Each one of 
these hymns ended with the stanza now universally sung 
by Christians, “Praise God from Whom all blessings flow,” 
and this hymn is a part of his “Evening Hymn.” 

The tune now called “Evening Hymn,” but which was at 
first called “Canon,” is older than the hymn, and it is 
reasonably certain that it was the first one used with it, 
so that hymn and tune have kept together for two hundred 
and fifty years. Thomas Tallis, the composer, was an 
organist in Waltham Abbey and served in connection with 
the Royal Chapel under four sovereigns, King Henry 


64 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Highth, King Edward, and Queens Mary and Elizabeth. 
Organists who get good salaries nowadays may be better 
contented by comparing theirs with his, which was seven 
pence a day. 


A drunken printer of London was Roger Miller, but he 
became a missionary working among the poor and the out- 
cast of the same city where he had once caroused. In 1847 
his mother died, and he started by railroad from London 
to Manchester to attend the funeral. It was late at night, 
and Miller had suggested singing Ken’s evening hymn, that 
day might end with a devotional song. Among the stanzas 
were these: 


“Teach me to live that I may dread 
The grave as little as my bed. 
Teach me to die, that so I may 
Rise glorious at the judgment day.” 


Never did the singing of earth come nearer to blending with 
the song of heaven, for scarcely had they ended their eve- 
ning hymn when there came the crash of colliding cars and 
Roger Miller was dead. 


No. 768, 
“ABIDE WITH ME! FAST FALLS THE EVENTIDE.” 


Rev. Henry F. Lyte, 1793—1847. 


The circumstances under which this hymn was written are 
peculiarly sad. The author was curate of “a sea-faring 
folk” at Brixham, Devonshire, England. Here he “made 
hymns for his little ones, and hymns for his hardy fisher- 
men, and hymns for sufferers like himself.” He had been 
in poor health, and it had been decided that he must make 
a trip to some more southern climate. Of this trip he said, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 65 


“While I talk of-flying, I am just able to crawl, and ask 
myself whether I shall be able to leave England at. all.” 
Before leaving he met his people once more in a Communion 1 
Service, and spoke some parting words. At its close, he | 
dragged himself to his room and remained there a long 
time. That evening he gave to a relative this hymn, written 
undoubtedly during the twilight of that Sabbath day. It 
recorded his own feelings; ‘“‘the darkness” was “deepening,” 
“life’s little day” was “ebbing swiftly to its close,’ and not 
long afterward on this very journey, at Nice, France, he 
died. An English magazine in 1887 invited its readers 
to send in lists of what they considered to be the hundred 
best hymns. About thirty-five hundred lists were received, 
and this hymn stood second in favor among the hymns, 
“Rock of Ages” only receiving more votes. 

Rev. George D. Baker of Philadelphia, when once at 
Nice, went to see the poet’s grave and found there a young 
man in tears who had been led to Christ through this hymn. 


No. 76. 
“GUIDE ME, O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH.” 


Rev. WiLuiAM W1.uiAMs, 1717—1791. 


The author began studying medicine, but a sermon he 
listened to one day preached in a churchyard, turned him 
to Christ and to the work of the ministry. Opposed to the 
Established Church, he became an itinerant Methodist 
preacher, and spent fifty years in hurrying from place to 
place all over Wales, to preach the Gospel. His sermons 
were eloquent and they came hot from his heart and greatly 
stirred the audiences who heard them. At a meeting of 
ministers, Howell Harris, who, by the way, was the preacher 
whose sermon in the churchyard was the means of Williams’ 
conversion, challenged his brother ministers to try their 


66 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


hands at composing a few stanzas to be read at their next 
meeting. Williams had never tried his pen at poetry, but 
now he tried it and with such success that he went on writ- 
ing in both Welsh and English until his reputation as a 
hymn writer was as great as it was as an orator, and he was 
called the “Watts of Wales.” This hymn is one of those 
written first in Welsh, and afterward translated into English. 


No. 77. 
“THERE IS A BOOK THAT ALL MAY READ.” 


Rev. JoHN Kesie, 1792—1866. 


A clergyman of the Church of England who added to 
native talent, a fine education, and poetic taste, became the 
leader of a new movement in that Church intended to bring 
more into prominence and honor, its sacred days, its ritual 
and service. From it perhaps has grown what we now 
know as High Churchism. As leisure gave him opportunity, 
he wrote short poems intended to celebrate the Church days 
and festivals of the year. It was not his plan to publish 
these, but “to go on improving the series all his life and 
leave it to come out, if judged useful, only when he should 
be fairly out of the way.” For the sake of getting the 
benefit of their suggestions and criticisms he read some of 
these poems to intimate friends, and so their existence be- 
came known, and their publication was insisted upon. This 
is the history of a volume of poems known as “The Chris- 
tian Year: Thoughts in verse for the Sundays and Holidays 
throughout the year,” published in 1827, when John Keble 
was but thirty-five, which has had such a sale both in 
England and America as to make it one of the wonders 
in the history of publishing. He clung to his original idea 
of improving the poems, and embodied his improvements 
in successive editions as they appeared, until a few days 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 67 


before he died he gave the final revision to the ninety-sixth 
edition. Scarcely a hymn book has been issued for many 
years either in England or America, that has not contained 
some of the.hyinns of John Keble, taken from ‘The Chris- 
tian Year.” This is one of them. 


No. 78. 
“FAR FROM THE WORLD, O LORD, | FLEE.” 


Wiuu1amM Cowper, 1731—1800. - 


Cowper was easily depressed by his surroundings. At 
one time he became quite insane and was placed under the 
charge of a physician. Upon his cure he went to reside at 
Huntingdon, and on the way he enjoyed one of the seasons, 
of religious ecstacy which often came to him between his 
periods of depression. Upon reaching his destination he 
found himself among strangers, and at once felt a depres- 
sion coming over him. He withdrew from the room, and 
prayed for encouragement. God cheered him, and the next 
day at church the devotion of a stranger sitting near him 
greatly delighted him. Now full of joy, he went from the 
House of God, to that same place, where he had found 
happiness the night before and wrote this hymn as an ex- 
pression of his feelings and gave it the name “Retirement.” 


No. 79. 
“ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS’ NAME”—1779. 


Rev. Epwarp PERRONET, 1726—1792 


In the diary of Charles Wesley, about the year 1750, 
there may be found references to a man with whom he had 


68 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


become so intimate that he often writes of him as “Ned.” 
This was Rev. Edward Perronet, a preacher of the Methodist 
connection. The treatment received in those days by the 
Methodist preachers may be imagined from ohe quotation 
from Wesley’s diary dated 1749 as follows: “From Roch- 
dale went to Bolton, and soon found that the Rochdale lions 
were lambs in comparison with these at Bolton. Edward 
Perronet was thrown down and rolled in mud and mire. 
Stones were hurled and windows broken,” etc. This is the — 
man who wrote the hymn “All hail the power of Jesus’ 
name.” <A tune for the hymn was composed by a friend 
of the author, William Shrubsole, who was a music teacher, 
and the tune with one stanza of the hymn was published 
together in The Gospel Magazine, November, 1779. The 
tune was called “Miles Lane.” It is seldom used now, but 
Dr. Robinson gives it in his “Spiritual Songs.” Perhaps it 
may serve to fix the author and the composer in our minds 
if I quote the last clause of Mr. Perronet’s will, as follows: 
“Tastly, I do here give and bequeath all and every property 
I am at this time or may be at the time of my decease 
possest of, both real and personal, to the afore mentioned 
Mr. William Shrubsole, and to his heirs, to be by them 
enjoyed and disposed of as they shall see meet for ever, 
in consideration of his respect for me, his services to me, 
and that pure and disinterested affection he has ever shown 
me from our first acquaintance even when a proverb of 
reproach, cast off by all my relations, disinherited unjustly 
and left to sink or swim as afflictions and God’s providence 
should appoint.” 


“An interesting incident is told in connection with ‘Miles 
Lane,’ and the late Henry Smart. It was formerly the 
custom for the organist to play a short interlude between 
every verse of the hymn. In Smart’s early days there were 
some grumblers (the race is not yet quite extinct) who 
adversely criticised his manner of playing the organ in the 
service. Smart said nothing, but waited his opportunity. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 69 


It came when ‘Mile’s Lane’ was to be sung. He started it 
in the original key, C. All went well at the first verse, 
and a ‘hearty sing’ was in prospect. In the interlude be- 
tween verses one and two Smart modulated, almost imper- 
ceptibly, into D flat, a semitone higher. Between verses 
two and three he modulated into D, when it was found 
the high notes on ‘Crown Him’ did not come quite so 
easily. Between verses three and four, a semitone higher 
still, until the high notes of these and the remaining verses 
must have made the acquaintance of the ‘Lost Chord.’ 
Needless to say that the young organist effectually silenced 
his critics by this clever display of skill.” 
F. G. Epwarps in Nonconformist Musical Journal, 
September, 1890. 


“Some months ago the Fourth Massachusetts regiment 
was marching to battle. They had become quite wearied, 
and some of the men were even falling out by the way, 
when a soldier struck up that noble tune ‘Coronation’ to 
the well known words, ‘All hail the power of Jesus name.’ 
The effect was electric. The fine old tune rose as upon 
wings from the lips of the soldiers, and flew along the 
columns with such vigor and zest, that the troop sprang 
along with invigorated spirits; proving this grand old song 
to be as inspiring in the army as in the prayer meeting.” 

Ladies’ Repository, March, 1865, 


No. 80. 
“OH! SING TO ME OF HEAVEN,” 


Mrs. Mary S8. B. SHINDLER, 1810. 


On one occasion when a little Irish boy was sitting on 
the doorstep, and singing, ‘““There’ll be no sorrow there,” 
a doubting and downcast stranger who was passing said, 


70 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“What place can that be, my boy, in which there is no 
sorrow?” 
The boy at once replied: 


“In Heaven above, where all is love.” 


Tne words were simple, but they were used to calm his 
troubled heart and give him peace. 


Rev. I. O. Sloan, relates an incident which occurred in 
one of the hospitals after the battle of Antietam. A young 
Massachusetts soldier, Charles Warren, had been led by 
unremitting care and faithful admonition to give’ himself 
up to Jesus. His leg, it was found, must be amputated to 
save his life. Mr. Sloan, unwilling to witness the scene, 
turned away as they carried the soldier to the operating 
table. He had not walked far, before he heard Warren’s 
cheerful voice, singing: 


“There'll be no sorrow there; 
In Heaven above, where all is love, 
There’ll be no sorrow there.” 


He turned back and found the soldier drowsy from the 
chloroform administered. Thus he remained, for the opera- 
tion proved useless, until he passed away. 

The following incident occurred during the war between 
the United States and Mexico: 

“While stopping at the town of Matamoros, a number of 
our soldiers, as was their custom, met together to spend their 
time in rude and noisy revelry. Amid these social gather- 
ings, the sound of vocal and instrumental music was always 
heard. Indeed the majority of our men were excellent 
singers; and, as they came from various parts of the Union, 
the favorite airs of each section were soon made familiar. 
Although they generally preferred such as were of light 
and trifling nature, still they often sang the tunes most pop- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 71 


ular with the different churches. The persons to whom 
we have alluded had been assembled for some time; the 
wine was flowing freely, and their hilarity steadily increased; 
everything seemed to promise them enjoyment. At this 
time a soldier belonging to a Southern regiment entered 
the room, and taking a seat in the midst of the company, 
began singing very deliberately, a hymn commencing: 


‘O, sing to me of Heaven.’ 


“The tune was solemn and affecting; the language was 
moving and impressive. The strangeness of the circum- 
stance at once secured the attention of all present, and, as 
the singer proceeded, the effect was striking; the liquor 
ceased to flow, the rude oaths were hushed, and the sound 
of merriment died away. When the last verse was con- 
cluded, a perfect stillness reigned; the spell of revelry had 
been broken, and the anticipated gayeties were doomed thus 
singularly to disappointment.” 


No. 81. 
“BRIGHTLY BEAMS OUR FATHER’S MERCY.” 


Purp Buiss, 1838—1876. 


This hymn was suggested by the following incident, told 
by Mr. D. L. Moody: 

“On a dark and stormy night, when the waves rollet 
like mountains, and not a star was to be seen, a boat, 
rocking and plunging, neared the Cleveland aoevae 

““Are you sure this is Cleveland?’” asked the captain, 
seeing only one light from the lighthouse. 

“Quite sure, sir,’ replied the pilot. 

“Where are the lower lights?’ 

“Gone out, sir.’ 


72 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Can you make the harbor?’ 

“We must or perish sir.’”’ And with a strong hand and 
a brave heart, the old pilot turned the wheel. But alas! 
In the darkness he missed the channel, and with a crash 
upon the rocks the boat was shivered, and many a life lost 
in a watery grave. Brethren, the Master will take care of 
the great lighthouse: let us keep the lower lights burning.” 


No. 82. 


“SAILOR, THOUGH THE DARKNESS GATHERS.” 


Pure Buiss, 1838—1876. 


The following passage in a sermon by Rev. E. P. Good- 
win, D.D., preached in the First Congregational church, 
Chicago, suggested this hymn. “Some ships cross the ocean 
with clear skies, smooth seas and fair winds, and come into 
port with streamers flying and bands of music making jubi- 
lee. Others come in storms, with the skies black as night, 
the wind like a hurricane, and the sea like mountains—and 
they come in all battered, yards gone, masts splintered, 
hardly enough left to hang together. But the difference 
amounts to nothing. The only important thing from first 
to last 1s, not what the log says about storm or calm, but 
that they all steer close to the compass, and do their best 
to make the harbor. So they only get there safely; what 
happened to them by the way is of no account. So as to 
God’s children. There may, there will be vast variety 
of experience: to some, prosperity, success, joy—to others, 
adversity, defeat, grief. But what may be your lot or 
mine, is of no consequence. The only thing of moment is, 
that we stick close to our chart and push for shore with all 
our might. So we gain that, the pleasures or perils of the 
way do not matter,” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 73 
No. 83. 


“THERE’S A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW FOR THEE, 
BROTHER.” 


Puiuip Buss, 1838—1876. 


This hymn was suggested by the following incident: 
A boy of twelve years worked out by the day to support 
a widowed mother, carrying home his earnings at night. 
“One night,” he says, “it being very dark and muddy, and 
having three miles to travel, and a heavy bundle to carry, 
I did not reach home until late. My mother, feeble and 
weary, had retired, but she quickly aroused when she 
heard my voice, and soon met me at the door with a warm 
kiss, and warmer tears and a ‘God bless you, my dear boy.’ 
As she received my bundle, she exclaimed, ‘After this, my 
son, I’ll set a light in the window for you,’ and true to her 
word, the bright light in the window appeared, and Oh! 
how it cheered my heart ever for years. Health failing 
me, I left home, leaving brothers to help mother, and went 
to sea. When I had been three years from home and was 
on the Pacific Ocean, mother died: but just before she 
expired, she said to those around her, ‘Give Edward my 
dying blessing, for he has been a good boy, and tell him 
I have gone to heaven, and I will set a light in the window 
for him,’ ” 


No. 84 
“HAVE YOU ON THE LORD BELIEVED?” 


Puiuie Buiiss, 1838—1876. 


A vast fortune was left in the hands of a minister for 
one of his poor parishioners. Fearing that it might be 
squandered if suddenly bestowed upon him, the wise min- 


74 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


ister sent him a little at a time, with a note saying: “This 
is thine; use it wisely; there is more to follow.” “Brethren, 
that’s just the way the Lord deals with us.” 

The above incident, told by Mr. D. L. Moody, suggested 
this hymn. 


No. 88. 
“MY SOUL REPEAT HIS PRAISE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


This is Dr. Watts’ version of the One Hundred and Third 
Psalm. It is related concerning the family life of Rev. 
John Angell James, that it was his custom to read the One 
Hundred and Third Psalm always at prayers on Saturday 
night, but his wife died; and the Sabbath drew nigh while 
she lay dead in the house. The members of the stricken 
family gathered in the twilight; some of them wondered 
whether this old song of the temple, fairly ringing and 
vibrant with thanksgiving would be given out now while 
the shadows were hanging so deeply overhead. But the 
faithful servant of God simply turned to the familiar place, 
and said gently: “No reason do I see, why we should 
change our custom tonight; let us read our usual Psalm.” 

Rev. C. 8. Ropinson, D.D. 


No. 86. 
“OF ALL THAT DECKS THE FIELD OR BOWER.” 


AspuL MESSEEH. 


Abdul Messeeh was a native of Delhi, one of the fruits 
of the ministry of Rev. Henry Martin. He himself engaged 
in missionary work with great zeal and efficiency. In 1825 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 75 


he was admitted into the ministry of the Established Church 
by Bishop Heber, who said of him, “He is a very fine old 
man, with a magnificent gray beard, and of much more 
gentlemanly manners than any Christian native whom I 
have seen. He is in every way fit for holy orders, and is 
a most sincere Christian, quite free, so far as I could 
observe, from all conceit and enthusiasm. His long eastern 
dress, his long gray beard, and his calm, resigned counte- 
nance, give him already almost the air of an apostle.” 
During his last-sickness, in 1827, his own hymn afforded him 
much consolation. A part of India is inhabited by a race 
called “Khonds.” They are very superstitious and have 
long offered human sacrifices, usually children whom they 
have kidnapped or bought. These children are tied to 
stakes on the day of sacrifice and their flesh cut away piece 
by piece, till they die. Some years ago some of these kid- 
napped children were rescued by English officers and sent 
to mission stations to be cared for and educated. One of 
these boys, to whom the missionaries had given the name 
of David, at first seemed very dull, but at last his mind - 
opened, and he was converted. He made rapid progress 
after this and was soon put at work in a printing office. 
About this time a number of white spots appeared upon his 
body, and it was soon apparent that he had been seized 
by leprosy. He was sent to the hospital and placed in 
a tent by himself. Here he used to lie alone for hours: 
but when the time for worship came, he would crawl to 
the door of his tent, and get as near as he could to the 
company, that he might hear the missionary’s voice, and 
join in the worship of God. One day, the missionary and 
his wife went into his tent to see him, and found him lying 
on his back, seemingly in deep thought. His Testament was 
close to his side, and his hymn book open in his hand. They 
feared to disturb him, so at once they went away. In a 
little while the missionary returned. Everything was just 
as before, the tent door open, the Testament, the hymn- 
book, all as they were. But his bright spirit had taken its 


76 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


flight to heaven. No human hand was there to smooth his 
pillow, or give the slightest help. Alone and in silence, the 
young leper died. The missionary was greatly affected by 
the sight, and looking down upon the open hymn book, his 
eye caught these words. 


< 


“Of all that decks the field or bower, 
Thou art the fairest, sweetest flower; 
Thou, blessed Jesus, let not me 
In Thy kind heart forgotten be. 


“Day after day, youth’s joys decay, 
Death waits to seize his trembling prey; 
Then, blessed Jesus, let not me 
In Thy kind heart forgotten be.” 


The lad had seemed to die with this prayer trembling on 
his lips. 


No. 87. 
“HOW HAPPY IS THE PILGRIM’S LOT.” 


Rev. Jonn Westey, 1703—1791. 


A Methodist preacher traveling in Indiana was, with his 
family suffering deep poverty. A settler who loved him, 
being a large landholder, presented him with a title deed 
of many acres. He went home, glad at heart, in freedom, 
as he thought, from his difficulties. Three months after 
this he came to his friend, the kind-hearted settler. He was 
welcomed; but he soon drew out the parchment. 

“Here, sir,” said he, “I want to give you back your title 
deed.” 

“What’s the matter?” said the other, “any flaw in it?” 

sINTO, 7 

“TIsn’t it good land?” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 77 


“Good as any in the state.” 

“To you think I repent the gift?” 

“T have not the slightest reason to doubt your generosity.” 

“Why don’t you keep it then?” 

“Well sir,” said the preacher, ‘you know I am very fond 
of singing, and there is one hymn in my book, the singing 
of which is one of the greatest comforts of my life. I have 
not been able to sing it with my whole heart since I have 
been here. A part of it runs this way: 


“ ‘No foot of land do I possess, 
No cottage in this wilderness, 
A poor wayfaring man, 
I lodge awhile in tents below, 
Or gladly wander to and fro, 
Till I my Canaan gain.’ 


“Take your title deed,’ he added, “I would rather sing that 
hymn than own America.” 

He went on his way, and sang his hymn, fulfilling his min- 
istry, and confiding in Him to Whose service he had sacri- 
ficed himself. Nor did he or his family ever lack bread. 
He is gone now to his “abiding home.” 

Rey. S. W. CHriIsToPHErs. 


No. 88. 
“NOT ALL THE BLOOD OF BEASTS.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674-1748. 


Some time ago a Christian lady was looking out of her 
parlor window in the city of London, when she saw a poor 
blind beggar in front of her house. He had a violin in a bag 
hanging from his neck. In his right hand he had a cane or . 
staff to lean on, while his left hand held a string that was 


78 STORIES OF THE GREAT 

fastened to the collar on the neck of his dog—his only guide, 
as he groped his way in darkness through the crowded 
streets of that busy city. The poor man looked cold, 
hungry, and sad. The lady pitied him, and sent her servant 
to ask him to come into the house, to get warmed, and 
rested, and have something to eat. The servant led the 
blind man and his dog up the steps into the dining room, 
and gave him a nice warm place by the fireside. As he sat 
there, with his dog lying beside him, the blind beggar showed 
his thankfulness by the smile that brightened his face, while 
the poor dog tried to say, “Thank you! thank you!” as well 
as he could by wagging his tail. While he was eating his 
dinner, the good lady sat by and talked with the poor man. 

“How long have you been blind, my friend?” 

“Fifteen years, ma’am. I had an attack of smallpox, and 
it took away my eyesight.” 

“And have you been begging all that time?” 

“No ma’am; only a few years. I had two brothers who 
kindly took care of me; but they both died three years ago, 
and now I have no one to do anything for me; so I have to 
go out and beg.” 

“Can you play any hymns, or psalms, or sacred pieces?” 

“No, ma’am, I only know two pieces, and they are both 
songs, or ballads. An old sailor taught me both of them.” 

“But there are many beautiful hymns and sweet psalm 
tunes that would sound well in the streets. People would 
like to hear them, and you would get more pennies in your 
little basket for singing them.” 

“T do not know any hymns, ma’am; I wish I did.” 

“Well, while you are getting your dinner, I will repeat one 
of my favorite hymns to you, and then I’ll sing it; and when 
you have done, you must see if you can play it and sing it: 
will you?” 

“Yes, ma’am, I will, and thank you for it.” 

' Then the lady recited this hymn of Dr. Watts’s. She | 
repeated the hymn slowly and deliberately several times. 
Then she sang it to a very sweet tune. She had a fine full 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 79 


voice. The blind man stopped eating to listen. With 
his face uplifted to the ceiling, he rolled his sightless 
eyeballs in evident delight. Even the dog seemed to for- 
get his crumbs and his bones, and wagged his tail 
vigorously. 

“Would you please sing it for me again, ma’am?” said the 
blind man. 

She sang it again and again. He seemed to take in every 
word of the hymn, and every note of the music. When he 
had finished his dinner, he took his violin, and standing in 
the middle of the room, he struck up the tune the lady had 
been singing and went through the whole hymn. The lady 
was delighted, and so was the poor blind fiddler. Then he 
repeated it, so as to be sure he had it right, and thanking 
the lady for her kindness, he went on his way. 

About two months after this, the blind beggar with his 
dog called again at that lady’s house. She shook hands 
with him and said, “Well, my friend, I’m glad to see you; 
how does the new music answer?” 

“Wonderfully well, ma’am. I’ve just called to tell you 
about it; but I don’t know how. The day I called here— 
oh! that blessed day! and several days after I sang pretty 
well; but one day I couldn’t sing at all.” 

“Why, had you taken cold?” 

“No, ma’am,. but I had a guilty conscience. I was, as 
that hymn says, all stained with sin. The oftener I sang 
those lines, the worse I felt. The verses described my case 
exactly. I was indeed a penitent. I remained in the house 
all day in great sorrow. My dog knows when I’m in trouble, 
and he would come and put his paws on my knee, saying, 
as plain as he could, ‘What’s the matter, master?’ . I thought 
about the verses, though I could not play them nor sing 
them; but the last verse led me to trust in Jesus, and now, 
indeed, I can sing: 


- “We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice, 
And sing His bleeding love.’ 


80 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Before that, my soul was blind as well as my body; but now 
I have new eyes. Jesus has opened the eyes of my soul. I 
see Him as my Saviour, my Lord, and my God. I thank 
you for calling me in that day, and teaching me that precious 
hymn. That was a blessed day to me.” 

Rev. Ricuarp Newton, D.D. 


Rev. J. D. Reardon, speaking of himself, said, heavily 
laden with guilt and fear, and groping for a long while in 
darkness, he was in a moment brought into the light and 
liberty of God’s people by the quoting of the third verse of 
this hymn. His pastor had been unfolding the way of salva- 
tion to him and other inquirers, when to impress the truth 
of the Bible contained in this verse, he reached out his hands 
just as the ancient priest was supposed to do when placing 
the sins of the people upon the scapegoat, and said, “Sinner, 
it is just this, only this, for you to do, and say: 


““My faith would lay her hand 
On that dear head of thine, 
While like a penitent I stand, 
And there confess my sin.’ 


“My eyes opened at: once to see it. I burst out with 
laughter; I couldn’t help it. My heart in a moment was 
filled with joy and has been ever since.” 


No. 89. 
“AWAY WITH OUR SORROW AND FEAR”—1744. 


Rev. Cuarues WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


A minister once lost his way, while traveling in Nebraska. 
Late at night and in the midst of a pelting storm, he sought 
shelter in the cabin of a lonely Irish settler. He was warmly 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 81 


welcomed, and they spent the evening pleasantly in con- 
versation. At the close of the evening his Irish host said to 
him, “Now, sir, will you please sing something before we 
go to rest? Can you sing John White’s hymn?” 

“John White’s hymn? No, I never heard of it. What 
is it?” 

“Tt’s this, sir: 


“‘Away with our sorrow and fear, 
We soon shall recover our home; 
The city of saints shall appear, 
The day of eternity come.’ 


“O yes! I’ve sung that good old hymn many a time. But 
why do you call it ‘John White’s hymn?’ ” 

“T’ll tell you, sir. When we were young people in old 
Ireland, my wife and I, we attended a meeting, where we 
learned to love Jesus. The minister was a young man 
named John White. He spent all his time among the people, 
telling them of the love of Jesus, and trying to persuade 
them to love and serve Him. He was often persecuted on 
account of his religion, but he never answered those who 
troubled him, except by singing some of the verses of this 
blessed hymn. My wife and I learned to sing it together, 
and it has been the greatest comfort to us. We have had 
many sorrows to bear, but when we sing this sweet hymn, 
and think of the dear, loving Saviour, it always lightens our 
burdens and makes us happy. A few years after we settled 
here, our little boy, our only child, lay dying. That was a 
heavy blow. The mother stood on one side of the cradle, 
and I on the other. We watched the death-drops gather on 
that patient little face. Then my wife looked up to me and 
said, ‘O, Pat, sing John White’s hymn.’ So softly, and with 
a choking voice, I sang: : 


‘Away with our sorrow and fear, 
We soon shall recover our home.’ 


82 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


And we closed the little eyes that were never more to look 
into ours, until that glad day of eternity comes. A few 
months after this, sir, came the greatest trial of my life. 
My dear wife, who had always been such a comfort to me, 
was taken very ill. The doctor said she could not live. As 
I sat by her bedside, overwhelmed with sorrow, she put her 
arm around my neck, and drawing my face down close to 
hers, she gently whispered, ‘Good-by Pat, dear, I’m going 
home. Sing John White’s hymn for me, once more before 
I go.’ So, with her cold hand clasped in mine, I tried to 
sing: 
‘Away with our sorrow and fear, 
We soon shall recover our home.’ 


And the Lord took away my sorrow and fear. My dear 
patient wife was quite happy till she fell asleep in Jesus.” 
Then the Irish settler wiped away the tears from his eyes, 
and while the storm was howling without, he and the min- 
ister, as they sat by the blazing fire sang once more John 
White’s hymn: 
“Away with our sorrow and fear.” 
Rev. RicHarp Newton, D.D. 


Some years ago, Mr. Brewster, a Methodist missionary, 
when traveling in Newfoundland, turned aside to visit an 
old settler whom he had heard of. He found him living 
with his daughters; and soon the talk turned upon the old 
country. 

“And have you ever seen the Shannon?” said the old man; 
“and do ye know the river?” 

“No,” was the reply, “I don’t know it.” 

The old man then told the story, how he had left the 
banks of the Shannon, and how, when all were sad and 
sighing as they parted from their friends, his little wife 
sang: 

‘Away with our sorrow and fear, 
We soon shall recover our home.’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 83 


and then, how they started on their journey; how, when 
they came to the shore and were ready to embark and to 
leave the old country behind, the tears came, but his little 
wife again sang: 


“Away with our sorrow and fear!” 


They dried their tears, and were soon on board. By and 
by a storm came, and all was terror. The captain and 
sailors gave up all for lost. But the little wife, she was 
happy, and began to sing: 


“Away with our sorrow and fear!” 


The captain plucked up courage; the sailors went to the 
pumps; the storm passed, and all was well. They landed at 
length; and when they found themselves left in the wilder- 
ness, their hearts were sad and heavy; but the little wife, 
she sang again: 


“Away with our sorrow and fear!” 


and then they bestirred themselves; built their hut, and 
soon got over their difficulties. ‘But,” said the old man, 
“and have you never seen the Shannon?” The family grew 
up; and then “the little wife” sickened; and while they were 
around her dying bed, the hymn she loved so well was on 
her lips, and she died singing: 


“Away with our sorrow and fear! 
We soon shall recover our home.” 


Rev. S. W. CHRISTOPHERS. 


84 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 90. 
“THERE IS A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD.” 
WiuuiamM Cowper, 1731—1800. 


There was once a man who had been a very great sinner. 
He had long been in the way of committing all sorts of 
wickedness. But at last he grew weary of his evil ways, 
and wanted to become a Christian. But he thought his sins 
were too great to be forgiven. A Christian man talked and 
prayed with him. To encourage him he repeated the first 
verse of this hymn. But the poor man shook his head, and 
said, ‘“‘There’s nothing in that for me. My sins are too 
great to be washed away.” Then his friend repeated the 
second verse: 


“The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day; 
And there may I though vile as he, 
Wash all my sins away.” 


“That means me,” said the penitent sinner. 

While Mr. Ralph Wells was once hurrying to meet a 
train, a Sunday school teacher hailed him, saying: “I have 
just come from the hospital, where I found on one of the 
beds, one of my scholars, a lad who sent for me. I found 
that he had met with a terrible accident, and had nearly 
severed both his limbs from his body. 

“O teacher!” he said, “I have sent for you. I am glad 
you have come before I die. I have something to ask of 
you. I want you to tell me a little more about Jesus.” 

“Well, my dear boy, have you a hope in Him?” 

“Yes, teacher, thank God, I have had it for six months.” 

“Why, you never said anything to me about it.” 

“No, I did not, teacher, but I have had it, and I find it 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 85 


sustains me in this hour. I have only a few minutes to live, 
and I would like you to sing to, me.” 
“What shall I sing?” 


“O, sing: 
‘There is a fountain filled with blood, 
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins, 
And sinners plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains.’ ” 


The teacher began to sing. The dying lad joined in the 
song with a sweet smile on his countenance. 

“It was that hymn,” said he, “among other things, on 
which my heart rose to Christ.” 

He then put his arms up and said, “Teacher, bend your 
head.” He bent it down. The dying boy kissed him. 

“That is all I have to give you,” said he. ‘“Good-by,” 
and he was gone. 


Dr. Prime relates that in the Fulton Street prayer meet- 
ing, in New York, a man once rose to speak and said, “I 
bless God for the fountain hymn. Fourteen months ago I 
was a poor sinner, a very profane man, and a miserable 
prodigal. I was invited into a meeting where God’s people 
were praying for poor outcasts like me. As I entered, I 
heard them singing of the “fountain filled with blood,” and 
that song went to my heart. I felt that if ever a man 
needed cleansing I did, and so I sought the prayers 
of Christians in my behalf, and I was soon rejoicing in 
Christ.” 


Lieutenant G——, an officer in the U. 8. Army, having 
received his death wound in a gallant charge at the head of 
his regiment, was visited in the hospital by the chaplain, 
who inquired how he felt. He said he had always been 
cheerful, and was now ready to meet God in peace. He 
thus proceeded, “Chaplain, I was once passing through the 


86 - STORIES OF THE GREAT 


streets of New York on a Sunday, and heard singing. I 
went in and saw a company of poor people. They were 
singing: 


‘There is a fountain filled with blood.’ 


I was overpowered with the impression the hymn made 
upon me, and I gave my heart to God. Since then I have 
loved Jesus, and I love Him now.” 

That was his last speech. As the chaplain listened, the 
voice faltered, and the minister said, ‘Trust Jesus.” 

The officer whispered, “I do trust Jesus,” and then 
expired. 


During a great revival in Ireland, Belfast had a large 
share in its blessing. Soon after it began, the curate of the 
parish visited one of the factories in which two hundred 
girls were employed. On his entering the building with the 
manager, a young woman near the door, seeing her minister, 
began to sing with a very sweet voice: 


“There is a fountain filled with blood.” 


The girl next to her took it up, and so onward it ran down 
the mill, till all the girls joined with deep and heartfelt 
fervency. Great as was the noise of the looms, the tender 
and subduing voice of praise rose above the din and clatter 
of machinery. They wanted no books to sing through that 
hymn, it was well known to nearly all there. The manager, 
a Manchester man, and an infidel, and ever on the watch to 
make ridicule of religion, was so completely overcome by 
that outburst of psalmody that he ran out of the mill. 
Meeting the curate afterwards, he said, “I never was so 
hard put to it as this morning; it nearly broke me down.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 87 


No. 91. 


“OH! WHY SHOULD THE SPIRIT OF MORTAL BE 
PROUD?” 


Wiii1aM Knox, 1789—1825. 


This poem was scarcely known until President Lincoln 
called attention to it. Said President Lincoln, “There is a 
poem that has been a great favorite with me for years, to 
which my attention was first called, when a young man, by 
a friend, and which I afterwards saw, and cut from a news- 
paper, and carried it in my pocket till by frequent reading 
I had it by heart.” He then repeated eleven verses of this 
poem. 


No. 92. 
“JOY TO THE WORLD; THE LORD IS COME!” 
Rey. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A hymn book for skeptics was published in England in 
1838, entitled “Social Hymns for the use of Friends of the 
Rational System of Society,” sometimes called “Hymns for 
the New Moral World.” It contains no recognition of God; 
but Nature, Light, and Moral Nature, take His place. The 
first hymn in that book is a perversion of this hymn. Here 
is the first stanza: 


“Joy to the world! the light is come! 
The only lawful King: 
Let every heart prepare it room, 
And moral nature sing!” 


88 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 98. 


“OH! SAY CAN YOU SEE, BY THE DAWN’S EARLY 
LIGHT.” 


Francis Scott Kry, 1779—1843. 


When Fort McHenry was bombarded by the British fleet 
in 1814, Mr. Key was, by authority of President Madison, 
sent to the British fleet under a flag of truce to secure the 
release of his friend, Dr. Beanes, who had been captured by 
the enemy and was detained on board the flagship, on the 
charge of violating his parole. He met General Ross 
and Admirals Cockburn and Cochrane, and with difficulty 
secured from them a promise of the gentleman’s release, but 
was at the same time informed that they would not be-per- 
mitted to leave the fleet until after the proposed attack on 
Fort McHenry, which the admiral boasted he would carry 
in a few hours. The ship on which himself, his friend and 
the commissioner who accompanied the flag of truce were 
detained, came up the bay and was anchored at the mouth 
of the Patapsco, within full view of Fort McHenry. They 
watched the flag of the fort through the entire day with an 
intense anxiety, until night prevented them from seeing it. 
During the night they remained on deck, noting every shell 
from the time it was fired until it fell. While the bombard- 
ment continued it was evidence that the fort had not sur- 
rendered, but it suddenly ceased some time before day, and, 
as they had no communication with any of the enemy’s 
ships, they did not know whether the fort had surrendered 
or the attack had been abandoned. They paced the deck 
for the rest of the night in painful suspense, watching with 
intense anxiety for the return of the day. As soon as it 
dawned, their glasses were turned to the fort, and, with a 
thrill of delight, they saw that “our flag was still there!” 
The song was begun on the deck of the vessel, in the fervor 
of the moment when he saw the enemy hastily retreating to 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 89 


their ships, and looked upon the proud flag he had watched 
for so anxiously as the morning opened. He had written on 
the back of a letter some lines, or brief notes, that would 
aid him in recalling them, and for some of the lines as he 
proceeded he had to rely on his memory. He finished it in 
the boat on his way to the shore, and wrote it out as it now 
stands immediately upon reaching Baltimore. In an hour 
after it was placed in the hands of the printer, it was on the 
streets hailed with enthusiasm, and at once took its place 
as a national song. 


No. 94. 
“JUST AS I AM WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE Etiott, 1799—1871. 


After the revolution of 1868 in Spain, when Queen Isabella 
had fled, one of the first acts of the Central Junta at 
Madrid, was the proclamation of a bill of rights including 
religious liberty. Before, it had been unlawful to hold 
Protestant religious services or to have or read the Bible. 
But both had been secretly done by the few faithful ones 
who “obeyed God rather than man.” Within a few Sab- 
baths after the flight of Isabella, the first Protestant service 
was held in Madrid. The room, an upper chamber, was 
crowded. The service was an adaptation from the Episcopal 
prayer book. The singing was congregational. For the 
solemn musical service of the Roman Catholic Mass was 
substituted that simple and beautiful hymn: 


“Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God! I come, I come!” 


The melody, one of Luther’s grand old tunes, was caught 
up by many voices. It welled out through the open win- 


90 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


dows, stopped many a passer-by, and invited him to enter. 
“Come,” it seemed to say, “for all things are now ready.” 
One might imagine it the voice of new Spain proclaiming its 
allegiance to Him who in all this wonderful revolution is 
the emancipator of them that were bound. 

Rev. LyMANn ABBOTT. 


Mr. Thomas Atkinson, a delegate of the Christian Com- 
mission, tells the following: ‘The morning after Mr. Moody 
and I reached Nashville, we stood upon the hotel steps 
debating whither we should go. Thinking there was no 
time to be lost, we separated and went in different direc- 
tions, he going to Hospital No. 3, and I to No. 8. It was 
my first venture into army work. I scarcely knew what to 
say or do. Entering the first floor of the large ward, I stood 
irresolute. Surgeons and nurses were moving hither and 
thither. A half doubt came to me whether I could do this 
work which the Lord had put upon me. Suddenly I noticed 
a man observing me attentively from a distant cot; I turned 
my eyes away from his, and letting them wander about the 
room awhile, looked at him again. He was watching me 
still. Putting up a silent prayer to God, I went to him. 
His name was John Hays. He had a wife and five children. 

“*You seem to be very low, John,’ I said. 

as) OS. Styl ame 

“ “Are you a Christian?’ 

“No, sir, ’m not, but my wife is. And I was just asking 
the Lord this morning, to send me some one to tell me how 
I could get to be like her. When I saw you standing over 
there, I thought, “Maybe the Lord has heard me. Maybe 
this is the man he has sent to help me.’ ” 

“The soldier’s earnestness, my former indecision, the 
blessed opening evident, made me strong in faith: ‘Yes, 
John, I am the Lord’s messenger; and, moreover, I have 
come to tell you that you are to become a child of God.’ 

““Do you think so, sir? Then thank God for it!’ 

“T told him of the only way by which he could come to 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 91 


the cross. He waited as if I were going to say more, but I 

only asked him if he would accept the offered Atonement. 
““Why, sir,’ said he, ‘I didn’t think that was the way. I 

thought I had to be sorry a long time—and—and—’ and 

here he stopped because he hardly knew what more to say. 
“ Listen,’ said I; then I repeated: 


“Just as I am without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come, I come’ ” 


““And will He save me just for nothing at all?’ 
“ “Ves,” T went on: 


““Nothing in my hand I bring; 
Simply to Thy cross I cling; 
Naked, come to Thee for dress; 
Helpless, look to Thee for grace; 
Foul I to the Fountain fly; 
Wash me Saviour, or I die!’ 


““T never knew it before, sir. I never knew it was so 
easy. Thank God! Thank God!’ There was a nurse 
standing by. The soldier turned to him and said, ‘Nurse, 
when this gentleman goes away, I want you to write to my 
wife and tell her that I have found out how to trust Jesus. 
Thank God! Thank God.’ He never faltered for a mo- 
ment, during the five days that intervened before his death, 
in his simple, childlike attachment to Christ. At last the 
morning came when his cot was empty. I asked the nurse 
about-him. Arrangements had been made by the dying man 
for the prompt transmission of his remains to his home. 
They were already upon the road. Then I discovered that 
the nurse had neglected the soldier’s request to send a letter. 
The first intimation to the wife, of her husband’s decease, 
would be the arrival of the casket which contained the body. 


92 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


It was a sad mistake, but could not be remedied. I wrote 
her a letter, giving full particulars of her husband’s trium- 
phant departure. The answer was one of very precious 
interest: 

“sir, didn’t think there were any earthly words which 
could comfort me as did those in your letter. I am afraid I 
sinned against God yesterday as I stood by my husband’s 
grave. I know I had hard rebellious thoughts.- No one 
knew about them but myself and God. As the minister 
said, ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” I almost 
thought I could stand it no longer. It was hard to be sep- 
arated from him thus, and to know so little—nothing about 
how he died. When I got back to the house, your letter was 
lying on the table. In it I learned that John had found 
Jesus, and I cried for joy. Children, I said, “dry up your 
tears. Your father is not dead. He is above in Heaven.” 
Thank God! At the grave the war had seemed to me very 
cruel and wicked. It is all changed now. I shall meet John 
again; that is enough. Thank God Who saved my 
husband.’ ” 





Rev. W. T. Eva, relates that while ministering to the 
wounded, after the battle of Gettysburg, away in the corner 
of a shed crowded with wounded, he found a dying man. 
His limbs were already cold and the death damp was upon 
his brow. Fellow sufferers were thick enough about him, 
yet he was dying alone. ‘He was still conscious when I 
came to him, not only conscious, but happy in the love of 
God. I can truly say that nowhere have I witnessed a more 
triumphant peace than his. We prayed by his side, and 
then sang: 


“Just as I am, without one plea,” 
with the chorus: 


“Happy day! happy day! 
When Jesus washed my sins away.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 93 


As we prayed and sang, the Holy Spirit seemed to come 
down not only upon the dying man, but on all in that 
dolorous place; and here and there, from among the wounded 
braves as they lay upon the floor, was uttered aloud the 
earnest cry, ‘God have mercy on my soul!’ ” 


While a pastor in St. Louis, Rev. Dr. McCook was sent 
for, to see a young lady who was dying of consumption. 
He soon found that she had imbibed infidelity through the 
influence of a school teacher, and with ‘her keen intellect 
was enabled to ward off all the claims of the Gospel. After 
exhausting all the arguments he could think of during his 
visits, he was extremely puzzled to know what more to do, 
as she seemed unshaken in her doubts. She at length 
seemed so averse to the subject of religion that when he 
called one day, she turned her face to the wall and seemed 
to take no notice of him. 

Dr. McCook said, “Lucy, I have not called to argue with 
you another word, but before leaving you to meet the issues 
of eternity, I wish to recite a hymn.” He then repeated 
with much emphasis the hymn, “Just as I am without one 
plea,’ and then bade her adieu. She made no response. 
He was debating for some time whether, after so much 
repugnance on her part he should call again. But realizing 
her nearness to the eternal world he concluded to make one 
more visit. As he took his seat by her bedside she slowly 
turned around in bed. Her sunken eyes shone with un- 
wonted luster, as she placed her thin, emaciated hands in 
his and said slowly, and with much emotion: 


“ «Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!’ 


“Q sir, I’ve come. I’ve come.” That hymn told the story. 
It had decided her eternal destiny. It had done what all the 


94 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


arguments had failed to do. In a few days she crossed the 
river. 4 


Far out on the western prairies dwelt a father who had 
not been to Church for fifteen years. After death laid some 
of his family in the grave, God’s still small voice came to 
him. “All alone,” said he, “out there on the prairie, with 
no Christian teacher or friend, God spoke to me. I then 
gladly went to hear a missionary preach in a schoolhouse. 
Was this salvation for me? Could I, so long a wanderer, 
come and be forgiven? While agitated with these thoughts, 
they sang: 


‘Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me.’ 


and before it was ended I could say: ‘O Lamb of God, I 
come.’ ” 


“The Fulton Street Prayer Meeting has a hymn book of 
its own. It is not a large volume, and its hymns are among 
the oldest of our sacred songs. While the voices blend, the 
hearts blend too, and many a man has been brought to his 
feet to tell some story of the Lord’s goodness and mercy, 
which the strains of a hymn have recalled. We had been 
singing the words one day, ‘Just as I am, without one plea,’ 
when a stranger arose and said, ‘That was the hymn that 
brought me to Christ. I long felt that I was a sinner, but 
I thought myself too bad for Jesus, so I endeavored to 
improve myself a little; the more I tried to make myself 
better, the worse I seemed to grow. Then I gave up all my 
attempts in despair. But I heard that hymn sung one 
day, and it shed light into my heart, and I saw that 
I was to come to Jesus just as I was. I came—came just 
as I was—and found pardon. That was a glad day for 
me.’ ”) 

Dr. PRIME. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 95 


In one of the refuges for poor fallen women, one was 
admitted who had been brought up a Roman Catholic, but 
she was most anxious to conceal that fact lest it might lead 
to her exclusion, for she had neither home nor friends. Her 
conscience was callous and her prejudices intense; but 
through the influence of this hymn, she became a humble 
and penitent believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. It was 
brought about in this way. There was a short service every 
week in the chapel of the institution for the inmates; a 
hymn was sung and prayer offered. On one occasion the 
minister gave out that touching hymn: 


“Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me,” 


and, contrary to his custom, read it through, each verse 
ending, 
“OQ Lamb of God, I come! I come!” 


These last words reached her heart, the stone was taken 
away, the unspeakable love of Jesus, which she had long 
resisted, softened her into tenderness and deep contrition, 
and the language of her soul was, “May I, so vile a sinner, 
come? Does Jesus bid me come? Will He wash my every 
sin away in His blood?” She doubted no more, but believed. 


No. 96. 
“WHILE ON THE VERGE OF LIFE I STAND.” 


Rev. Purr Dopprince, 1702—1751. 


This hymn was suggested to the author by a remarkable 
dream which he had after a conversation with his early 
friend and patron, Dr. Samuel Clark, on the state of the 
soul after death. He dreamed that he died, and his spirit 
soared away into the regions beyond the stars. As he ap- 


96 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


proached the borders of heaven, an angel met him, who 
conducted him to a beautiful palace which was assigned for 
his abode. There, in an inner apartment, he saw a golden 
cup with a large grape vine embossed upon it, which he 
learned signified the living union of Christ with His people. 
While he was still talking with the angel, a gentle knock 
was heard, and before him, through the opening door, he 
saw the Redeemer. The enraptured disciple fell at the feet 
of his glorified Lord, but was lifted up with sweet assurance 
of His favor. Then taking the cup, and first drinking of it 
Himself, the Savior put it into the hands of His disciple, 
who declined the honor, but was told, “If thou drink it not, 
thou hast no part with Me.” Then the Savior left him for 
a time; and looking about him, lo! on the walls were pic- 
ture illustrations of scenes in his earthly life—scenes of 
trial, and deliverance, of conflict and victory. A burst of 
joy broke the enchantment of his celestial dream; and 
amidst a flood of tears he woke to the consciousness that 
he was still in the body. 
Rev. R. T. Ropinson. 


No. 96. 
“HOW SAD OUR STATE BY NATURE IS!” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


“The way of salvation is perfectly plain to me now,” 
remarked a lady once to her pastor. ‘The darkness is all 
gone. Everything is clear to me now. I do not know how 
or why it is so. But you read a hymn the other night with 
these words: 


‘A guilty weak and helpless worm, 
On Thy kind arms I fall; 

Be Thou my strength and righteousness, 
My Jesus and my all!’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 97 


I saw then at once that I had nothing to do but to trust in 
Jesus. I sat all the evening just thinking of those lines. 
I did not hear your prayer, nor your text, nor a word of 
your sermon. I thought of nothing but those lines then and 
ever since. I am so contented and happy. Why, sir, don’t 
you think that the reason why we do not get out of our 
darkness sooner is that we don’t believe?” From that 
evening on that lady had no difficulty with the way of 
salvation. 


No. 97. 
“THOU SON OF GOD, WHOSE FLAMING EYES”—1767. 


Rev. CHaryes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


Many years ago a revival was in progress in a little vil- 
lage called Pendeen, near Land’s End, England. It hap- 
pened that at that time there was a little band of men who 
were great chums, and in a good position in society, in fact 
they were regarded as influential men in the parish. One 
evening they were all together at an hotel in the neighbor- 
ing town of Penzance, and, as men do on such occasions, 
they were drinking, and talking all kinds of nonsense, and 
not unfrequently all kinds of profanity. One happened to 
say, “I wonder what the people are doing just now over at 
Pendeen?”’ 

Another replied, “I suppose they are all getting converted 
as fast as possible.” 

“Well,” said one to a third, “I say, Captain B., I will tell 
you what it is. When I see you converted, I will begin to 
think there is something in it,” and there was a roar of 
laughter from the whole company at the thought of Cap- 
tain B’s conversion. 

The man thus referred to was a mine agent, occupying a 
very influential position, and a large employer of labor. As 
the laughter died away, he arose from his seat. His com- 


98 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


panions did not notice how pale was his cheek. One thought 
only had flashed across his mind, when he heard his friend’s 
remark, and the roar of laughter. which it provoked. It was 
this, “Is my salvation so utterly hopeless that these worldly 
men can afford to regard me as they do? Do my compan- 
ions think me altogether lost—for time and eternity?” 

He started up and darted out of the room. The company 
thought they had offended him. Another moment, and he 
was in the hotel yard, and crying to the hostler, “Saddle my 
horse!”” He rode to his home as fast as he could ride. His 
wife could not understand what was wrong with him; he 
was so agitated. He took no food but immediately set out 
for the place at which the meetings were being held. He 
was the last man expected to be seen there. He came 
boldly forward and took his seat in the front of the con- 
gregation, in full view of many whom he was employing. 
He had overcome his moral cowardice. The preacher gave 
out the third stanza of this hymn: 


“Ts there a soul that knows Thee not, 
Nor feels his need of Thee, 
A stranger to the blood which bought 
His pardon on the tree? 
Convince him now of unbelief; 
His desperate state explain’; 


As he uttered these last words, “His desperate state ex- 
plain!” a cry was heard. The Captain was prostrate on his 
knees, and was sending up the thrilling prayer, before the 
eyes and ears of all, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” It 
need hardly be told that he went home rejoicing. His con- 
version moved the whole neighborhood, and was the com- 
mencement of the most remarkable work of grace that ever 
occurred in those parts. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 99 


No. 98. 


“HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION YE SAINTS OF THE 
LORD.” 


At the Fulton Street prayer meeting in New York, a city 
missionary one day said that he brought with him one day 
an unconverted man and his wife. They had come to New 
York on a pitiful errand—to identify the body of a mur- 
dered son. As they were without the consolation of the 
Gospel in this hour of their need and trial, the missionary 
friend felt deeply for them and induced them to attend the 
prayer meeting with him. Among the hymns sung was the 
one commencing with the above lines, and it was sung to 
the old familiar tune, “Portuguese Hymn.” The sorrowing 
father’s heart was touched. He had not heard these words 
sung for well nigh fifty years, when his mother used to sing 
them and to the same old tune. He was deeply touched and 
the missionary hoped not without good results. 

Rev. 8S. I. Primes, D.D. 


No. 99. 
“AND MUST I BE TO JUDGMENT BROUGHT’—1763. 


Rev. Cuartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


One of the habitual attendants at the Fulton Street 
prayer meeting, New York, relates that while passing 
through a down-town street in that city one day, he caught 
sight of the office of an old employer, and determined to 
make a call. He found there two young men, who entered 
the office when they were boys and were only boys when 
he left. When they saw him, they greeted him as “the old 
Methodist Captain.” He was not a Methodist, he told 
them, but they persisted that he knew a number of Metho- 


100 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


dist hymns and must sing them one with a chorus. He did 
not feel prepared to sing just then, but-who could say that 
this might not be an opportunity to sing home the Gospel 
to their hearts? So with this thought in his mind he prayed 
God to direct him, and commenced singing these solemn 
lines: 


“And must I be to judgment brought, 
And answer in that day 

For every vain and idle thought, 
And every word I say?” 


At the end of each verse, he sang as a chorus, “The judg- 
ment day is rolling round,” ete. When he had finished the 
first verse, he noticed that the young men were very still; 
at the second the tears were in their eyes; and when the 
third was sung both seemed deeply moved, and at least one 
besought him to pray for him. 

Rev. 8. I. Primp, D.D. 


No. 100. 


“°"MID PLEASURES AND PALACES THOUGH WE MAY 
ROAM”—1823. 


JoHN Howarp Payns, 1792—1852. 


In 1864, a number of Union prisoners of war, who had 
been paroled, passed over a railroad in Maine on their way 
to their homes. Among their number, was a blue-eyed, 
pale-faced boy of not more than seventeen years, whose 
shoulders seemed scarcely equal to the task of carrying a 
forty-pound knapsack. For some time he had been looking 
intently out of the window, and suddenly, as the train was 
approaching Biddeford, he jumped up and with his face all 
aglow and eyes sparkling with delight, exclaimed, “Boys, 
there’s my father’s chimney.” As if by a simultaneous 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 101 


inspiration the soldiers all sprang from their seats and sang, 
“Home, Sweet Home,” and more than one bearded man 
looked out of the windows as an excuse to hide his tears. 


A gentleman, now a Christian minister, relates how the 
music of a hymn proved the means of his salvation. Hav- 
ing run away as a prodigal from his father’s home in Vir- 
ginia, when a young man, he had had little regard for the 
broken-hearted parents that he had forsaken, until one 
Christmas night, when in the fourth story of a Philadelphia 
hotel, he was awakened by the chiming bells of an Episcopal 
Church near by. The tune of “Home, Sweet Home,” 
was being played. As in the quiet of the midnight hour the 
sound of this hymn floated over the city, thoughts of his 
forsaken home began to echo through the chambers of his 
soul. A father’s plaintive voice, and a mother’s streaming 
eyes seemed to beckon him home again. His pillow soon 
became wet with tears of penitence. At the repetition of 
the tune he could no longer remain in bed. His own heart 
was now yearning for “Home, sweet, sweet home,” and soon 
his hands were packing up to start for home, and not long 
after his feet were hastening down the flights of stairs, up 
Chestnut street, down Broad street, and at the Baltimore 
depot he took the first. train of cars for home. 

Rev. E. M. Lone. 


One who had recently returned from a sea voyage relates 
the following: “On one of the delicious afternoons in Feb- 
ruary, peculiar to the West Indies, as the sun was declining 
below the western horizon, the ship lay in a calm near the 
Island of Cuba. The sea was uncommonly smooth, and the 
sails lay listless against the masts. The sun was setting, 
and the whole ocean seemed of liquid gold. At this hour a 
few of the officers assembled on the forecastle to contem- 
plate the scene; and recalling the joys of other days, to 
hold that converse which in a small degree alleviates the 
privations of a seaman’s life. The father dwelt in tender- 


102 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


ness on his distant family; the brother recalled the unbidden 
assiduities of a sister’s love; and the son felt his heart soft- 
ened by the recollections of a mother’s care. Such was the 
state of feeling when a clear melodious voice slowly poured 
forth the first line’ of that exquisite song, ‘Home, Sweet 
Home!’ We had often heard that song, but never had it 
come so thrillingly as then. The singer continued. As the 
song drew to a close, his emotion increased with that of 
every one who listened. At length, as the line, ‘There’s no 
place like home,” rose on the stillness of the hour for the 
last. time, a rush of feeling was evident and in many showed 
itself in tears. Oh! it was good to look on men whom I had 
considered hardened in iniquity, thus throwing open the 
flood gates of long pent affections, that they might once 
more gladden and purify the soul! No one spoke; and after 
a few moments in which all else was banished by the one 
dear thought of the distant home we had exchanged for our 
home on the deep, each one sought his pillow, I doubt not 
a better and purer man.” 


No. 101. 
“ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME.” 


Rev. Aucustus Montacue Topuapy, 1740—1778. 


In how many instances was the precious Gospel brought 
to the soldiers, in the strains of music set to Psalms and 
hymns. In camp and hospital, on march and field, the 
sweet songs of Zion wooed many a prodigal back to the 
Father’s loving embrace. None possibly was more effectual 
than that familiar hymn, “Rock of Ages.” We first heard 
it sung in the army on the beach at Fortress Monroe, by 
some delegates of the Christian Commission, just beneath 
the “Lincoln Gun.” Its grateful truth, borne on the winds, 
fell upon the ears of a soldier on the parapet; not only so, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 103 


but touched his heart, andi in time led him to build on the 
“Rock of Ages.” 

Again we heard the same hymn at Yorktown, sung by 
some of the same delegates. After its singing, as we were 
returning to our quarters, one of the delegates was over- 
taken by a soldier, who belonged to the “Lost Children.” 
He asked, ‘““Won’t you please tell me how I may build on 
the ‘Rock’ you sang about? I was thinking of it while on 
guard the other day.” He told his story in brief: He was 
from New York City, and received his mother’s dying 
blessing. Before she breathed her last, she sang this 
hymn, and said, “George, my son, I would not feel so badly 
about your enlisting, if you were only built upon that 
sRecks 2) 

These sacred memories were revived by the singing of 
the hymn; and as the delegate and soldier knelt on the 
dusty roadside, beneath the stars, the wanderer lost his 
weariness and thirst for sin, in the shadow of the “Rock of 
Ages.” Eighteen months after this incident, the same dele- 
gate, going to Fortress Monroe, on a boat which had as 
part of her passengers a gay and happy company of the 
Signal Corps, conversed, sang and prayed with them. He 
related to them the foregoing incidents, sang “Rock of 
Ages” and retired to his stateroom. Soon after, a gentle tap 
called him to the door, where he found a tall, graceful lieu- 
tenant, who, with tears streaming down his face, said, “O 
sir! I could not let you go to bed tonight until I had told 
you what you have done. As I sat, with my head leaning 
against a spar, and listened to your words and to that 
hymn, you brought back my dead mother with all her 
prayers and love. I have been a wanderer until this night, 
and now by God’s grace I want to hide myself in that 
‘Rock of Ages.’ ” 

Rev. GrorcE BRINGHURST. 


Rev. George Bringhurst says, “Passing through the 
woolen factory at Fredericksburg after the battle, my _ 


104 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


immense parish of wounded, dying men, I heard a low, 
mournful voice singing: 


‘While I draw this fleeting breath, 
When mine eyelids close in death, 
When I rise to worlds unknown, 
And behold Thee on Thy throne,— 
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in Thee.’ 


There were some pauses in the verse, as if strength were 
failing the singer. A look, as I passed on my errand, told 
me that the soldier was dying. Next morning, the last 
‘fleeting breath’ had been drawn, the eyelids were ‘closed in 
death,’ and the life that had gone was hid with Christ in 
God.” 


After one of the battles of the war of the Rebellion, a 
chaplain relates, “Afar off, under the machinery of a mill, 
I heard the voice of singing. It reminded me of Paul and 
Silas singing their praises in the guarded dungeon. I 
walked over and leaned upon the ponderous wheel. Near 
me there rose a voice, sweet and clear, and the holy strains 
were: 

‘While I draw this fleeting breath.’ 


But soon the earth receded from the eyes of, the soldier-boy, 
and the lips that gave forth so sweet a strain were still; 
while the spirit of the man walked in the light of the angels 
over the crystal pavement of the New Jerusalem.” 


It was a sultry day in June. The scorching beams of the 
noonday sun came slanting through the broad, uncurtained 
windows, falling directly on the operators and “sewing girls 
ranged along the room, making their heads throb and ache 
almost to bursting. Wearily the machines turned, and the 
tired eyes of the girls glanced now and then at the clock 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 105 


noting the moments as they dragged heavily by. The calls 
on the ice cooler had been frequent that morning, and now 
at one o’clock the water was spent. One after another had 
gone to it, expecting to get a cooling drink, but had turned 
away disappointed. The merry song was hushed, the 
laughing jests were dropped, and tired hands toiled on, 
longing for the close of the day, that they might find rest 
and water. Suddenly, in the deep hush, came the sweet low 
voice of an operator, singing: 


“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee.” 


One after another joined in forgetting their burning thirst, 
until the whole fifty girls were singing. Grandly the closing 
stahza rang out: 


“Whilst I draw this fleeting breath, 
When my eye-strings break in death, 
When I soar through tracts unknown, 
See Thee on Thy Judgment throne, 
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 

Let me hide myself in Thee.” 


No more sadness, no more weary looks or anxious glances 
- at the clock. Hymn after hymn was sung, and almost too 
soon came the six o’clock bell.” 

American Messenger. 


A minister in Wales gave the following account of his 
conversion after the battle of Alma, during the Crimean 
war, in which he was engaged as a soldier. 

“T had,” said he, “gone down a hill to get some water. 
In consequence of the number of men lying dead on the 
field, the water there was not fit to drink, so I had to go a 
long way to get some. After getting all I required I re- 
traced my steps to the camp. As I stepped over the bodies 


106 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


now stiff and cold in death, my thoughts wandered to those 
families in England who were deprived of a father, hus- 
band or brother, when all at once the sound of singing 
floated in the air. I drew near to the place and found a 
company of soldiers singing in the Welsh language. In the 
midst of them was a Welsh soldier whose sands of life were 
nearly gone, and he had requested his comrades to sing: 


‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me.’ 
When they sang the last verse: 


‘Whilst I draw this fleeting breath, 
When my eye-strings break in death,’ 


he lifted his eyes to heaven and faintly exclaimed, ‘Sing it 
again.’ They did so. But before they had finished it his 
soul left the tenement of clay for the home above. The 
solemn scene had such an effect upon me that I began to see 
the way of salvation, and am now a minister of the gospel.” 


During revival services at Calvary Church, Cleveland, 
Ohio, in 1870, the subject one evening was “The Prodigal 
Son,” and a prodigal had been drawn in from the street. 
The number of inquirers was great, and crowded the seats 
set apart for their use so full that this one could not find 
room and so he fell upon his knees in the aisle. An evening 
or two later, as he arose to testify how he had been plucked 
as a brand from the burning, he remarked that he found 
great difficulty in drowning the echo of the rowdy songs he 
had been accustomed to sing. “But,” said he, “I have suc- 
ceeded by singing, ‘Rock of Ages,’ and today I have been 
kept busy singing it from morning till night.” 


It was at the death bed, not long ago, of a man who had 
for many years been living a life of profligacy. For years 
his friends knew nothing of him, but at last he was taken 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 107 


sick and then he sought his home. His friends received him, 
attended him with all kindness, and as he lay in that sick 
bed Jesus came knocking at his heart and he received Him. 
A few days before his death, I asked him on what: his hope 
was resting. He stretched forth his hand for a hymn book, 
and with his long, pale, wasted fingers, turned over its 
leaves, and then handing it to me pointed to one of the 
hymns, and said, “That is my hope.” It was “Rock of Ages, 
cleft for me.” 
Rev. E. M. Lone. 


One Sabbath a poor drunken man walked into a church 
with a fashionable congregation, and seated himself near the 
pulpit, at the close of the first hymn. His shabby appear- 
ance attracted general observation. The minister had 
scarcely commenced preaching when the stranger had sunk 
into a deep sleep and snored aloud, when one of the officers 
of the church approached to lead him out. “Let him re- 
main,” said the minister; “he does not disturb me. Try and 
bear with him. I hope he may hear some word before he. 
leaves which will persuade him to lead a new life. The 
man is not in his senses; there is some influence which we 
do not perceive which has led him here. I believe the Lord 
sent him.” 

He continued to sleep on, but more quietly. The pealing 
of the organ and the singing of the choir at last aroused 
him. He started in bewilderment and gazed around. It 
was the old hymn “Rock of Ages,” which they were singing. 
He sat down, buried his face in his hands, and listened to 
the prayer which followed. The next Sabbath, he was again 
in church, and soon afterwards, in a prayer meeting, he 
arose and said he hoped he had become a Christian. On 
the Sabbath when he first entered the church he had heard 
the singing, and a voice seemed to bid him enter. He 
thought it might be the voice of God speaking to him for 
the last time. Half overcome with drink, and almost in 
rags, he entered the church. He heard part of the hymn, 


108 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Rock of Ages,” the hymn sung by his mother upon her 
death bed. The prayer which followed seemed meant for 
him. He resolved to leave off his old habit, and by the 
grace of God he had kept his resolution. He became a 
member of the church, and subsequently a deacon. “I do 
not know,” said his pastor, “a man more earnest, or more 
successful in doing good than he.” 

G. J. STEVENSON. 


No. 102. 
“WE'RE TRAVELING HOME TO HEAVEN ABOVE.” 


One morning, toward the close of July, 1862, Chaplain 
Henries, passing through the rooms of the hospital at the 
Navy Yard at Annapolis, placed on the vacant bed of a 
soldier a single-paged tract entitled, “Will you go?” It was 
a copy of the hymn bearing that name. Its first lines read: 


“We're traveling home to heaven above; 
Will you go? 

To sing the Savior’s dying love; 
Will you go?” 


Other lines of it read: 


“The way to heaven is straight and plain; 
‘Will you go? 
Repent, believe, be born again: 
: Will you go?” 


Soon after the soldier came and sat down on his bed. He 
picked up the hymn, looked at the title, read a few lines of 
the invitation, and threw it down. Again he picked it up 
and read a little, then threw it upon the floor. But the 
invitation he was so unwilling to hear had reached him, 
through this silent messenger of the Lord. Playing with the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 109 


tract for awhile with his foot, the soldier picked it up for 
the third time, and now read it carefully through. It was 
thrown down no more. The soldier read and reread it, and 
then holding it thoughtfully awhile in his hand, as if listen- 
ing to the solemn voice speaking to him, “Will you go?” 
he drew a pencil from his pocket, and deliberately traced 
round the margin of the tract these words: “By the grace of 
God, I will try to go. John Waugh, Company G, 10th 
Regt. P.R.V.C.” 

A soldiers’ prayer meeting was held that night in the 
hospital. Waugh came, and when opportunity was given— 
with his wounded arm in a sling, and the little tract in his 
other hand—he told his comrades of his conflict with that 
bit of paper. He read the promise which he had written on. 
the margin, and asked all to pray that he might keep it and 
never be ashamed of his Savior, adding, “I’m not ashamed 
of Christ now, but I am ashamed of myself for having been 
so long ashamed of Him.” Some months later he was killed 
in a skirmish in Virginia. 

Rev. R. J. Parvin. 


No. 103. 
“NEARER MY GOD TO THEE”—1841. 


Mrs. SARAH FLower ApAMs, 1805—1849. 


At the siege of Fort Donelson, in 1862, a young soldier 
was wounded, and left by his comrades, who pressed on in 
the battle. When they returned, they found him resting 
against a tree, dead, with a hymn book open in his hand at 
this hymn: 


“Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.” 


The story is told of a girl who had been very sick and 
whose disease had affected her eyes, so that she had to be 


110 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


kept in a dark room and it was feared she might lose her 
sight. She could not believe it possible that so dread a 
calamity could overtake her. While alone, one Sabbath 
day, she said to herself, ‘““The Bible says we are not tried 
above that we are able to bear, and I could not endure 
that. Oh! no, I shall not be blind.” 

While musing thus a low sweet voice near her said: 
“Sister, may I come in?” 

“Why, yes, if you want to.” 

“T want to recite my hymn to you; it is some new 
verses to ‘Nearer my God, to Thee,’ and I like them so 
much.” 

“Well, dear, say them; I don’t mind.” 


“Tf where they led my Lord, 
I, too be borne, 
Planting my steps in His, 
Weary and worn— 
May the path carry me 
Nearer my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee!” 


“That’s not for me,” thought the sick girl, “it means the 
old-time martyrs.” She tried to shake off the feeling. How 
could the dark path bring her nearer to God? But the 
childish voice continued: 


“Tf Thou the cup of pain 
Givest to drink, 
Let not my trembling lips 
From the draught shrink; 
So by my woes to be 
Nearer my God to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee!” 


“Never mind finishing it, sister, my head aches, and I 
want to be alone.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 111 


Once the thin, white hand was raised as if to dash the 
“cup of pain” from her lips. Days passed. As her strength 
came back the inflammation in her eyes decreased. She 
no longer spoke of her hopes and fears. She looked more 
and more calmly at her cross. The path, though dark, had 
one ray of light, which, if followed, must bring her to her 
Savior, for it came from Him. One day she cried, “O 
mamma! I cannot wait; let the light in now,” but her 
mother said, “Have patience, darling; the noonday is too 
bright; I will promise you to let the morning sun into your 
room.” 

All day long she waited, her lips moving in prayer. The 
morning dawned. “Open the blinds wide, mamma; let in 
all the light you can before you take off the bandage.” 

She turned toward the window; on her bare arms she 
felt the warm sun and morning breeze, but no light came to 
her eyes. 

“Mamma, mamma, why are you so silent? Is the room 
light?” ; 

Her mother’s low pained voice answered, “My darling, 
the sun shines in your face.” She sank upon her knees; the 
clasped hands were uplifted, as if reaching for something 
unattainable; the face quivered with inward anguish; but 
the expression of her sightless eyes was more beautiful than 
in their days of vision they had ever been. As her mother 
bent over her she heard the pale lips whisper: 


“So by my woes to be 
Nearer my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee.” 


A writer in the Nashville Christian Advocate, January, 
1878, relates the following reminiscence of Bishop Marvin: 
“The bishop, at a prayer meeting he had conducted, stated 
that he had recently been traveling in the wilds of Arkan- 
sas, his mind oppressed, and his heart sad. He had been 
driven from his family and home by the invading foe, and 


112 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


could not hear of their welfare, and it seemed to him that 
. clouds and darkness had completely enveloped him. In this 
state of heart he approached an old log cabin in a very 
dilapidated condition. As he drew nearer he distinguished 
the sound of some female singing: 


‘Nearer my God to Thee.’ 


He at once alighted and went in, for the sound seemed to 
enter his very soul. He there found the singer, a poor old 
widow woman, in the midst of poverty, but who was happy 
in spite of her loneliness and want. He felt and said that if 
an old widow in such want could sing such a song, that 
certainly he could. He gave to the wind his fears, his ful! 
confidence in an overruling Providence was brought into 
lively exercise, and from that day he went on singing: 


‘Nearer my God, to Thee.’ 


This simple personal narrative made a deeper impression 
on my mind, than even the rich sermons he preached, and 
with which I was delighted.” 


No. 104. 
| “WHEN I CAN READ MY TITLE CLEAR.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


At the battle of Shiloh a Christian Captain was shot 
through both thighs with a rifle bullet, a wound from which 
he could not recover. While lying on the field, he suffered 
intense agony from thirst. He supported his head upon his 
hand, while the rain was falling around him. In a little 
time, quite a pool of water collected in the hole made by 
his elbow. If he could only get to that puddle he could 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 113 


quench his thirst. He tried to get into a position to suck 
up a mouthful of muddy water, but was unable to quite 
reach it. Said he, “I never felt such disappointment before 
—so needy, so near, and yet so helpless. By-and-by night 
fell, and the stars shone out clear and beautiful above the 
dark field; and I began to think of the great God, Who 
had given His Son to die a death of agony for me, and that 
He was up there—up above the scene of suffering, and above 
those glorious stars; and I felt that I was going home to 
meet Him, and praise Him there; and that I ought to 
praise Him, here in my wounds and in the rain, and I began 
to sing with my parched lips: 


‘When I can read my title clear 
To mansions in the skies, 

I'll bid farewell to every fear, 
And wipe my weeping eyes.’ 


There was a Christian brother in the brush near me. I 
could not see him, but I could hear him. He took up the 
strain; and beyond him another and another caught it up, 
all over the battlefield of Shiloh; and long into the night 
the echo was resounding, as we made the field of battle ring 
with hymns of praise to God.” A writer in one of the maga- 
zines thus threw the story into song: 


“Through the terror of the stillness, 
Through the anguish of the moans, 
Come the words, half sung, half whispered, 
In exultant, hopeful tones, 

‘When I can read my title clear 
To mansions in the skies.’ 
Heads are lifted, groans are stifled, 
Wounded men forget their pain, 
B’en the dying wait to listen 
To that sweet and holy strain: 
‘T’ll bid farewell to every fear, 
And wipe my weeping eyes.’ 


114 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Dying men smile as they sing it 
With their last drawn earthly breath, 
And their souls go out in music 
To the shadow land of death,” 
‘Let cares like a wild deluge come, 
And storms of sorrow fall, 
May I but safely reach my home, 
My God, my heaven, my all!’” 


No. 108. 
“HOW SWEET THE NAME OF JESUS SOUNDS.” 
Rev. JouN Newton, 1725—1807. 


Major Whittlesey, of Gen. Howard’s staff, tells of a chap- 
lain who had been very attentive to a wounded soldier for 
several days, trying, if possible, to save his limb. It was 
decided that the leg must be taken off. The soldier was 
anxious that his chaplain should be present during the 
operation, but he felt as if he could not bear the sight. 
So, when the suffering man was put upon a stretcher and 
borne to the amputating table, the chaplain remained behind. 
How surprised and electrified was he, as he waited sadly 
for the result, to hear the voice of his friend sounding forth 
from the room of pain, singing those precious lines: 


“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 
In a believer’s ear! 
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds 
And drives away his fear.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 115 
No. 106. 
“JESUS, LOVERZOBReMLY..cOUL.”* 


Rev. CHARLES Westey, 1708—1788. 


Rev. Norman Fox, chaplain of the Seventy-seventh New 
York regiment tells the following story of the evening after 
the battle of Rappahannock Station: “I found a young 
man of the Tenth Massachusetts Regiment with his leg 
crushed and mangled by a piece of shell. The shock had 
been so severe that amputation was useless, and he was 
sinking rapidly. I inquired concerning his religious history. 
It was the old story—a bright hope, active church member- 
ship, army life and irregularities, and the abandonment of 
his profession. ‘And now,’ said he, ‘if there can be forgive- 
ness for such a wanderer, pray for me.’ 

“T confess I felt more backwardness than was right. 
There stood a circle of rough soldiers surveying the solemn 
scene with mere morbid curiosity. There stood another 
group, more educated and refined—a knot of surgeons, some 
of whom, I knew, had no belief in God or eternity, and 
considered my interview with the dying man as at best but 
amiable uselessness. But there lay the sinking sufferer, 
and I wore the uniform of a minister of Christ. Bending 
over the table where he lay, I asked the Good Shepherd 
to pardon the returning wanderer. Murmured responses 
throughout the prayer disclosed’ his own earnestness in the 
petition; the smothered hope revived again; and faint at 
first but growing brighter and brighter, there finally beamed 
on him the full radiance of that faith which supports in the 
stern hour. Meanwhile there stood by the table a noble look- 
ing soldier, a little older than the dying man, moistening the 
lips of the latter, affectionately smoothing his hair, but so 
perfectly calm and collected that I supposed he was only a 
hospital attendant. A casual remark startled my suspicion, 
and I asked him, ‘Is he a friend of yours?’ 


116 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“He answered, ‘It is my younger brother.’ 

“Stooping over him, the brother said, ‘What shall I tel! 
mother for you?’ 

“<Tell her I died for my country,’ was the prompt cheery 
reply. 
““Give me a kiss for her,’ said the other; and the bronzed 
face bowed down to the pale lips as tenderly as if they 
had been an infant’s. More than one turned aside to hide 
his tears; the brothers seemed least moved of all. The dying 
boy sank rapidly, but all clouds vanished, and faith grew 
bright and strong. I repeated, ‘I know that my Redeemer 
liveth,’ ‘The Lord is my Shepherd,’ ‘In my Father’s house 
are many mansions,’ the hymn ‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me,’ 
and those lines, especially dear when the couch of dissolu- 
tion was a rough board table in a dark, cold tent, with only 
a knapsack to rest the head upon: 


“Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are.’ 


He tried to repeat: 
‘Jesus, lover of my soul;’ 


I finished it for him. This hymn seemed to strengthen him 
even more than the others. But his voice was’ already be- 
ginning to fail. Said he, ‘There’s a—silver—pencil—in—my 
pocket—’ It was with the deepest regret that we saw 
that he could not speak friendship’s last message. There 
was but one Friend of Whom he could speak now. We 
watched him silently, while he lay for some minutes motion- 
less; I thought all was over; but rousing suddenly, he said, 
‘Jesus, Lover of my soul;’—Oh! repeat that again!’ My 
voice choked up so that I could hardly speak. I know not 
if he heard me, for before I reached the last verse, ‘the 
storm of life’ was over, ‘the haven’ was reached, and ‘the 
billows’ had died away in the eternal peace.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 117 


A minister in America, who was a stranger to the church, 
was on a certain occasion, called to officiate in a cold and 
dreary church. When he entered it, the wind howled, and 
loose clapboards and window shutters clattered. The pulpit 
stood high above the first floor; there was no stove, but a 
few persons in the church, and they beating their hands 
and feet to keep them from freezing. He asked himself: 
“Can I preach? Of what use can it be? What shall I do? 
If I read a hymn, can these two or three in the gallery sing?” 
He concluded to make the trial, and read: 


“Jesus lover of my soul.” 


“They commenced,” said the preacher, “and the sound 
of a single female voice has followed me with an indescrib- 
ably pleasing sensation ever since, and probably will while 
I live. The voice intonation, articulation, and expression 
seemed to be perfect. I was warmed inside and out, and ‘ 
for the time was lost in rapture.” The minister preached 
with unusual freedom and success, and learned never to 
be discouraged by unfavorable appearances. 


A chaplain in the United States Army, one morning found 
Tom, the drummer boy, a great favorite with all the men, 
and whom, because of his sobriety and religious example, 
they called “The young deacon,” sitting under a tree. At 
first he thought him asleep, but as he drew near, the boy 
lifted up his head, and he saw tears in his eyes. 

“Well, Tom, my boy, what is it; for I see your thoughts 
are sad? What is it?” 

“Why, sir, I had a dream last night, which I can’t get 
out of my mind.” } 

“What was it?” 

“You know that my little sister Mary is dead—died when 
ten years old. My mother was a widow, poor but good. 
She never seemed like herself afterward. Im a year or 
so she died too; and then I having no home and no mother, 


118 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


came to the war. But last night I dreamed the war was 
over, and I went back to my old home, and just before 
I got to the house, my mother and little sister came out 
to meet me. I didn’t seem to remember they were dead. 
How glad they were! and how my mother, in her joy, 
pressed me to her heart! Oh! sir, it was just as real as 
you are real now!” 

“Thank God, Tom, that you have such a mother, not 
really dead, but in heaven, and that you are hoping, through 
Christ, to meet her again.” 

The boy wiped his eyes and was comforted. The next 
day there was terrible fighting, Tom’s drum was heard all 
day long here and there. Four times, the ground was swept 
and occupied by the contending armies. But as the night 
came on both paused, and neither dared to go on the field, 
lest the foe be there. Tom, “the young deacon,” it was 
known, was wounded and left on the battlefield. His com- 
pany encamped near by. In the evening, when the noise 
of the battle was over, and all was still, they heard a voice 
singing, away off on the field. They felt sure it was Tom’s 
voice. Softly and beautifully the words floated on the 
wings of the night air: 


“Jesus, lover of my soul, 
Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
While the nearer waters roll, 
While the tempest still is high! 
Hide me, O, my Savior, hide, 
Till the storm of life is past; 
Safe into the haven guide, 
O receive my soul at last! 


“Other refuge have I none; 
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee: 
Leave, O, leave me not alone, 
Still support and comfort me;” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 119 


The voice stopped here, and there was silence. In the morn- 
ing the soldiers went out, and found Tom sitting on the 
ground, and leaning against a stump—dead! 

Sunday School Times. 


About twenty years ago, on a winter’s night, a heavy 
gale set in upon the precipitous, rock-bound coast near 
the British Channel. A little coasting vessel struggled 
bravely, but in vain, with the tempest. One dark, fearful 
headland could not be weathered—the bark must go ashore. 
Then came the last desperate effort of the captain and his 
ship’s crew. Their toiling at the oars was soon over, their 
boat was soon swamped. ‘They were supposed to have all 
sunk together; for, in the morning, they were all found 
lying side by side upon a reedy rock. On visiting the 
wreck, and going below to the cabin, there was found lying 
on the table the captain’s hymn book, opened at the page 
containing the hymn: 


“Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
While the nearer waters roll, 
While the tempest still is high.” 


A fine, intelligent Virginia young man, while residing in 
the west, became an infidel and a blasphemer of the name 
of God. From this state he was delivered by reading the 
work of Soame Jenyns; but while he acquiesced in the 
truth of revelation, he did not yet feel its power. He 
was attacked by a lingering and fatal disease, which led 
him to reflection and prayer, but often made it difficult 
for him to converse. Three Christian friends sometimes 
visited him, to beguile the tedious hours by singing. They 
one day entered the room, and, almost without any Digits 
remarks, began the hymn: 


“There is a fountain filled with blood.” 


120 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


He then said to them, “There is nothing I so delight to 
hear as the first hymn you ever sung to me: 


‘Jesus, lover of my soul!’ ” 


They began to sing it to the tune of “Martin,” and soon 
the solemnity which had reigned in the little circle while 
singing the former hymns began to be changed to weeping. 
They struck the touching strains of the second stanza, and 
the weeping became loud; the heart of him who had reviled 
Christ broke, and they feared that to sing the remaining 
stanzas, would be more than he could bear. When singing ~ 
in his room a few days after, he said, “I don’t think I shall 
ever hear ‘Jesus, lover of my soul’ sung again; it so excites 
me that my poor body cannot bear it.’ 
G. J. STEVENSON. 


A party of Sunday school teachers and scholars went 

out one summer’s day for a trip on Lake Winnepesaukee. 
Quite suddenly there broke over them the most. terrific 
storm of wind, rain, lightning, and thunder ever known 
by the captain of the boat in an experience of twenty-five 
years. Terror now took possession of nearly all, as well it 
might. In a confusion amounting almost to a panic, all 
rushed for the ship’s hold: Happening to be among the 
last to leave the deck, and standing about midway on the 
stairs, we witnessed a scene such as we had never beheld 
before, and never wish to experience again. Women were 
crying and fainting, children were frantic with fright, and 
strong men stood pale and trembling. We tried to inspire 
calmness and composure, but to very little purpose. Then 
we sang: 

“Jesus, lover of my soul, 
Let me to Thy bosom fly.” 


The lightning’s flash seemed almost to envelop us in a 
sheet of flame, and the thunders seemed to shake the earth 
and the sea. And then we sang: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 121 


“Other refuge have I none; 
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee!” 


The gallant boat, in whose palpitating bosom we had taken 
refuge, met the storm bravely, but the gale was too mighty; 
she was beaten back by the buffeting waves and winds, 
and imperilled by hidden rocks; and then we sang: 


“Thou, O Christ, art all I want; 
More than all in Thee I find.” 


But the heart of the hurricane began to be touched, and 
the winds to relent; the lightning had a softer glare, and 
the thunder fell more tenderly on our ears; and then there 
was acalm. The hurricane had sped on with its accompani- 
ment of flood and terror, and left us out in the clear sun- 
shine. The singing saved us from a panic, and, saved from 
that, we were saved from consequences we dared not con- 
template. The twilight found us all safe at our homes. 
G. J. STEVENSON. 


No. 107. 
“SWEET WAS THE TIME WHEN FIRST I FELT.” 


Rev. JoHN Newton, 1725—1807. 


A delegate of the Christian Commission relates that dur- 
ing the gloomy time of the siege of Chattanooga, he was 
riding down Waldorn’s Ridge, on his way to Bridgeport. 
“The day was cold and wet, everything disheartening. It 
seemed probable that we were about to abandon Chatta- 
nooga, and that this would be my last trip over. the moun- 
tains. Depressed with these thoughts and chilled with the 
rain, I jogged along alone, until I overtook a cavalry man 
riding solitarily, and seemingly as low in spirits as myself. 
As I came abreast of him, so as to look into his face, I 
saw his eyes were full of tears. In our conversation I let 


122 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


fall a word of Christian experience, when he turned to me 
in an earnest way, and said, ‘Then you are a Christian. 
Perhaps you can help me out of my difficulty?’ I expressed 
my readiness to do anything I could. 

““T was just trying to repeat the first verse of a blessed 
old hymn which I have been singing for years, but somehow 
that fourth line I can’t get hold of this morning: 


“Sweet was the time when first I felt 
The Savior’s pardoning Blood 
Applied to cleanse my soul from guilt,—” 


Now there’s where I’m stopped; what’s the next line?’ 
“T finished it up for him: 


‘And bring me home to God.’” 


“<¢That’s it; thank you,’ said he; ‘that’s it. I wonder 
I could have forgotten it.’ 

“You looked troubled,’ said I, ‘when I first saw you; 
your tears couldn’t have been over the loss of that fourth 
line?’ ‘Oh, no,’ he replied; ‘it was the other three lines 
that brought the tears. I was thinking of the time of my 
conversion, and of the many times when I have “felt the 
pardoning Blood” since that day.’” 


No. 108. 
“IN THE CHRISTIAN’S HOME IN GLORY.” . 


Rev. SAMUEL YouNG Harmer, 1809—. 


Rev. Horace C. Hovey, relates the following incident 
which occurred after the battle of Fredericksburg: “A 
brave cavalry officer was dying of his wounds. He was 
delirious when I approached him. He imagined himself on 
the field at the head of his gallant men, and fancied that 
a heavy gun was just in front of them ready to be fired. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 123 


His distress was great. At length he thought the gun had 
been discharged, and his men, badly cut up, were retreating. 
Here I interposed, saying, ‘There is no gun there; you are 
safe among friends here in Fredericksburg.’ 

‘Let me alone,’ he sternly replied; ‘I must recover my 
command and renew the attack.’ 

‘No,’ said I, ‘ let us not talk of battle-scenes. You 
are soon to die. Let us talk of Jesus. The mention of 
that Name seemed to exert the powerful influence I 
had often heard ascribed to it. His agitation ceased at 
once; his delirium passed away; a smile lit up his pallid 
features. After a moment’s silence he said, in a low sweet 
voice, ‘Jesus! Jesus! It is He Who said, “Come unto Me, 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest.” I am weary; can you sing: 


“There is rest for the weary?” ’ 


“T complied with his wishes, and with failing, faltering | 
tongue, he tried“to join in the song: 
“In the Christian’s home in glory 
There remains a land of rest.” 


We sang the hymn entirely through, and when we closed 
there was not a dry eye in all that ward. He died soon 
after this, saying for his last words, ‘I have no father here 
but my Heavenly Father.’ ” 


No. 109. 


“MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING 
OF THE LORD.” 
Mrs. Juri Warp Howe, 1819—1910. 


Chaplain McCabe was confined in Libby Prison when 
the news of the battle of Gettysburg was received there. 


124 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


He tells how the prisoners received it: “I had a relative 
in Richmond, a staunch rebel. The day they received the 
first tidings from Gettysburg he came to see me, his face 
wreathed in smiles, saying: ‘Have you heard the news?’ 

“ “What news?’ 

“<‘Forty thousand Yankee prisoners on their way tp 
Richmond!’ 

“T was astounded. In dumb amazement I listened to 
the Rebel officers speculating where the new prisoners should 
be stowed away and how they were to be fed. I went up 
stairs and told the news. Despondency settled down into 
every heart. That night, as we assembled for ‘family 
prayers’ and sang, as was always our wont, the long metre 
Doxology, it trembled out from quivering lips up to Him 
Who has said, ‘Glorify ye Me in the fires.’ We felt we 
were so doing that night, if never before. 

“T slept none that night, listening wearily to the watch 
calling the hours and singing out as he did so, ‘AIl’s well.’ 
When the day broke I waited for the footsteps of ‘Old 
Ben,’ a character well known to every inmate of Libby. 

Te was the prison news agent and sold papers at twenty- 
five cents apiece. At last his footfall came. He pushed 
the door ajar, looked round for a moment upon the sleepers, 
and then raising up his arms, shouted, ‘Great news in de 
paper!’ 

“Did you ever see a resurrection? I never did but once. 
Oh, how those men sprang to their feet; and what was the 
news? The telegraph operator at Martinsburg, when put- 
ting those cyphers to the four, had clicked his instrument 
once too often. There was a mistake of only thirty-six 
thousand! More yet! Lee was driven back; the Potomac 
was swollen; the pontoons were washed away! I have stood 
by when friends long parted meet again with raining tears 
and fond embrace, but never did I witness such joy as 
swept into those strong men’s faces, where the deepest 
sorrow sat but a moment before. Well, what did we do? 
Why, we sang as saved men do; sang till Captains Flynn 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 125 


and Sawyer, immured in the lowest dungeon below and 
doomed to die within ten days, heard us and wondered; 
sang till the very walls of Libby quivered with the melody | 
as five hundred of us joined in the chorus of Mrs. Julia 
Ward Howe’s ‘Battle Hymn of the Republic’: 


‘Mine eyes have seen the Glory of the coming 
of the Lord; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the 
grapes of wrath are stored; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His 
terrible, swift sword; 
His truth is marching on.’ ” 


No. 110. 


“O, FOR A CLOSER WALK WITH GOD.” 


Witu1AmM Cowper, 1731—1800. 


A gay and thoughtless young lady left her home on a 
pleasure-secking tour to a fashionable watering place. She 
arrived safely, but found amid the ceaseless hilarity, “an 
aching void within.” Being seated near an open window, 
she heard the soft, smooth voice of a servant girl as it 
warbled forth the words of the hymn: 


“OQ, for a closer walk with God 
A calm and heavenly frame; 

A light to shine upon the road 
That leads me to the Lamb!” 


As she listened her soul was drawn out in prayer with 
the words she heard: 


“The dearest idol I have known, 
Whate’er that idol be, 
Help me to tear it from Thy throne, 
And worship only Thee.” 


126 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


She wept tears of penitence, trusted in Christ, and rejoiced 
in peace. 


No. 111. 
“ONE SWEETLY SOLEMN THOUGHT”—1852. 


Miss PHorse Cary, 1824—1871. 


In Macao, China, near Hong Kong, the principal occupa- 
tion of the inhabitants is gambling. Here, on a certain 
occasion, a traveler found a company of gamblers in a 
back room on the upper floor of a hotel. At the table near- 
est him, there was an American, about twenty-five years 
old, playing with an old man. They had been betting and 
drinking. While the gray-haired man was shuffling the 
cards for a new deal, the young man, in a swaggering care- 
less way, sang, to a very pathetic tune, the words of the 
hymn: 

“One sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o’er and o’er, 
I’m nearer my home today 
Than I’ve ever been before;” 


Hearing the singing, several gamblers looked up in surprise. 
The old man, who was dealing the cards, putting on a 
look of melancholy, stopped for a moment, gazed stead- 
fastly at his partner in the game, and then dashed the whole 
pack of cards on the floor under the table. Then said he, 
“Where did you learn that tune?” 

The young man pretended that he did not know that he 
had been singing. 

“Well, no matter,” said the old man, “I’ve played my 
last game, and that’s the end of it. The cards may lie till 
doomsday, and I will never pick them up.” The old man, 
having won money from the young man, about one hundred 
dollars, took it out of his pocket, and handing it to the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 127 


young man said: “Here, Harry, is your money; take it 
and do good with it. I shall with mine.” As the traveler 
followed them down stairs, he saw them conversing by the 
doorway, and overheard enough to know that the old man 
was saying something about the song which the young man 
had sung. 


No. 112. 
“AND AM I ONLY BORN TO DIE?” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


A nobleman of great wealth, whose pleasure was drawn 
from his riches, his honors and friends, had a daughter, who 
was the idol of his heart. She was highly accomplished, 
amiable in her disposition, and winning in her manners. 
At length she attended a Methodist meeting in London, 
was awakened, and soon happily converted. Afterward, 
to her the charms of Christianity were overpowering. The 
change was marked by her fond father with great solici- 
tude, and was to him occasion of deep grief. He took her 
on long and frequent journeys, and attended her in the 
most engaging manner, in order to divert her mind from 
religion; but she still maintained her integrity as a Chris- 
tian. After failing in all his projects, he introduced her 
into company under such circumstances that she must either 
join in the recreation of the party or give high offense. It 
had been arranged among his friends that several young 
ladies should, on the approaching festive occasion, give a 
song, accompanied by the piano. The hour arrived, the 
party assembled. Several pieces had been performed to the 
great delight of the company, who were now in high spirits. 
At last she was herself called on for a song, and many 
hearts beat high in hope of victory. Should she decline, 
she was disgraced. Should she comply, their triumph was 
complete. This was the moment to seal her fate. With 


128 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


perfect self-possession, she took her seat, ran her fingers 
over the keys and commenced playing and singing, in a 
sweet air, the following verses of the above hymn: 


“No room for mirth or trifling here, 

For worldly hope or worldly fear, 
If life so soon is gone; 

If now the Judge is at the door, 

And all mankind must stand before 
The inexorable throne! 


“No matter which my thoughts employ, 
A moment’s misery or joy; 

But O! when both shall end, 
Where shall I find my destined place? 
Shall I my everlasting days 

With fiends or angels spend?” 


She arose from her seat. The whole party was subdued. 
Not a word was spoken. Her father wept aloud. One by 
one the company left the house. The father never rested 
till he became a Christian. He lived an example of Chris- 
tian benevolence, having given to various enterprises, up 
to the time of his death, nearly half a million dollars. 


No. 113. 
“ALMOST PERSUADED NOW TO BELIEVE.” 


Puiuie Buss, 1838—1876. 


During the winter of 1873-1874 Mr. P. P. Bliss was urged 
by Mr. D. L. Moody and other friends to give up his busi- 
ness and devote his life to singing the Gospel. There was 
much prayer and much hesitation on his part about taking 
such a step. He doubted his ability to be useful in the work. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 129 


At the same time Major D. W. Whittle was being urged to 
do the same thing. He says concerning it, “A solemn provi- 
dence that occurred at this time and very deeply impressed 
both of us, is linked in the chain that drew us into the 
work. A friend received a telegram announcing the drown- 
ing of his four children in the loss of the Ville de Havre. 
His wife, who was with the children, had been saved, and 
sent the dispatch. He left at once for Europe to bring home 
his wife, and upon his return, he urged the matter upon 
us so as to lead us both to regard it as probable that we 
should respond to the call. Shortly after our friend’s return, 
and while we were still undecided, we were invited to hold 
some meetings at Waukegan, Illinois, and agreed to go 
there for three or four evenings as an experiment. If the 
Lord blessed us and souls were converted, we would take it 
as indicating His will, and that He called us into the work. 
The first evening meeting was not an encouraging one, as 
to attendance, and had no marked result, except the very 
powerful impression upon our minds that the Lord was with 
us. The next day it rained, and we looked for a still 
smaller audience, but it was twice as large. Before the 
meeting closed, there were blessed indications of the work 
of the Holy Spirit, upon the people. The place became very 
solemn, and as Bliss sang ‘Almost: Persuaded,’ every word 
seemed filled with power. In different parts of the house, 
sinners arose as he sang, presenting themselves for prayer, 
and souls that night rejoiced in Christ. Our hearts were 
very full, and a great responsibility was upon us. The next 
afternoon we met and spent some hours in prayer. Bliss 
made a formal surrender of everything to the Lord; gave up 
his musical conventions; gave up his writing of secular 
music; gave up everything, and placed himself, with any 
talent he might have at the disposal of the Lord.” And 
this hymn marks the turning point in its author’s own life 
as well as in that of many others. 


130 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 114. 
“HO! MY COMRADES SEE THE SIGNAL.” 


Puiure Buss, 1838—1876. 


During October, 1864, just before Sherman began his 
famous march to the sea, while his army lay camped in 
the neighborhood of Atlanta, the army of Hood in carefully 
prepared movement passed the right flank of Sherman’s 
army, and gaining his rear, commenced the destruction of 
the railroad leading north, burning block houses, and cap- 
turing the small garrisons along the line. Sherman’s army 
was put in rapid motion, following Hood, to save the sup- 
plies and larger posts, the principal of which was located 
at Altoona Pass, a defile in the Altoona range of mountains, 
through which ran the railroad. General Corse, of Illinois, 
was stationed here with a brigade of troops, in all about 
fifteen hundred men. A million and a half of rations were 
stored here, and it was highly important that the earthworks 
commanding the Pass and protecting the supplies should 
be held. Six thousand men were detailed by Hood to take 
the position. The works were completely surrounded and 
summoned to surrender, General Corse refused, and sharp 
fighting commenced. The defenders were slowly driven into 
a small fort upon the crest of the hill. Many had fallen, 
and the result seemed to render a prolongation of the fight 
hopeless. At this moment, an officer caught sight of a white 
signal flag, far away across the valley, twenty miles distant 
upon the top of Kenesaw Mountain. The signal was an- 
swered, and soon the message was waved across from 
mountain to mountain: “Hold the Fort; I am coming. 
W. T. Sherman.” Cheers went up; every man was nerved 
to the full appreciation of the position; and, under a 
murderous fire, which killed or wounded more than half 
the men in the fort, they held the position for three hours, 
until the advance guard of Sherman’s army came up, and 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 131 


the enemy were obliged to retreat. Mr. Bliss heard this 
incident related as an illustration of the inspiration derived 
by the Christian from the thought of Christ as our Com- 
mander, and of His coming to our relief. The song was 
at once suggested to his mind and soon written. 


No. 116. 
“T HAVE A SAVIOR, HE’S PLEADING IN GLORY.” 


Puiuip Briss, 1838—1876. 


In 187-, Mr. Bliss, in company with Mr. Whittle, held a 
series of revival meetings in Jackson, Michigan. At the 
closing meeting, after the sermon, Mr. Bliss sang this hymn, - 
with its sweet refrain, “For you I am praying, I’m praying 
for you.” As was his habit in singing this hymn, he made 
it his own prayer, and while he sang, more than a hundred 
arose asking for prayer. Sometimes in singing this hymn, 
Mr Bliss added a verse not given in the collections. 


“And Jesus is calling, how can you reject Him? 
He says He loves sinners so then He loves you. 
O, friend, do believe it, arise and accept Him, 
Give Jesus your heart while I’m praying for you.” 


No. 116. 


“°TIS THE PROMISE OF GOD FULL SALVATION TO 
GIVE.” 


Puiip Buss, 1838—1876. 


While holding meetings at Peoria, Illinois, a little German 
: boy of eight years was converted and interested Mr. Bliss 


132 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


greatly. After Mr. Bliss’ death the following letter was 

received by Major Whittle: 
Peoria, Illinois, 
January 27. 

Dear Brother Whittle: 

I saw a piece in the Standard of you and Mr. Bliss. 
I saw that you and the Rev. Mr. Morgan, of London, 
were getting up a book of the life of Mr. and Mrs. Bliss, 
and wanted to have letters from those who have been 
blessed or converted by his songs. I can say that I was 
converted when they were singing the second hymn, 
“Hallelujah, ’tis done.” In singing the chorus of it, 
I thought, “Do I believe on the Son?” and so, as you 
gave the first invitation for all that were not Christians 
and wanted to be prayed for to rise, and then asked 
how many wanted to settle it now to rise, I was among 
that lot that rose as there were forty or fifty, you said. 
I saw five or six that rose that were right behind me. 
I attended all of Mr. Bliss’ children’s meetings, as also 
I attended all of yours. It was Thanksgiving night, 
at the Centennial Hall, in which I was converted I 
expect you to know me. I am eight years old. I re- 

main, as ever, your friend. 
Wiuu1aM B. HERSCHBERGER. 


This hymn has a curious origin. In compiling “Gospel 
Songs” in 1874, Mr. Bliss desired to use in it the well- 
known hymn, “Hallelujah! Thine the glory,” then much 
used in religious services, but the owners of the copyright 
declined to give their consent, and “Hallelujah; ’tis done” 
was written to supply the want. Hundreds of souls have 
been led by this hymn to decide for Christ, and the church 
has reason to rejoice at that refusal. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 133 
No. 117. 
“T AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” 


Puiuie Buiss, 1838—1876. 


At one of the revival meetings held by Moody and 
Sankey at Edinburgh, Scotland, a gay giddy girl attended. 
She went late and was unable to get a seat, so she wan- 
dered about in the hall outside. Inside the church they 
were singing, led by Mr. Sankey: 


“T am so glad that Jesus loves me 
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me.” 


The words went to her heart and her conscience, and she 
said, “I cannot sing that.’””’ When that meeting broke up, 
she went to the meeting for anxious inquirers, and is now 
a rejoicing Christian. 


A missionary of the American Sunday School Union in 
Missouri, after he had organized a Sunday School, sang to 
them this hymn, with the chorus: 


“T am so glad that Jesus loves me,” 


and followed it with the question, “Are you glad? If not, 
why?” He had hardly finished when a young man drose, 
and rushing up to him, threw his arms around his neck, 
sobbing, “Oh, sir, you must not leave here till I’m a 
Christian!”’ Prayer was offered for him, and he was saved. 
Then he exclaimed, “Oh, that song! I could not get away 
from it, and it has saved me.” 
D. W. WHITTLE. 


A young woman in England went to a meeting where 
she heard Mr. Sankey sing this hymn, with the chorus: 


“T am so glad that Jesus loves me,” 


134 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and while the hymn was being sung, began for the first 
time in her life to feel that she was a sinner. All her sins 
came up in array before her; and so numerous and aggra- 
vated did her sins appear, that she imagined she could never 
be saved. She said in her heart, “Jesus cannot love me. 
He could not love such a sinner as I.” She went home in ~ 
a state of extreme mental anguish, and did not sleep that 
night. Every opportunity of obtaining more light was 
eagerly seized. She took her place in the inquiry room. 
There she found to her astonishment and joy that Jesus 
could, did, does love sinners. She saw in God’s opened 
Word that it was for sinners Jesus died, and for none 
others. When she realized this, she too began to sing: 


“T am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves even me.” 


Mr. Sankey relates that soon after he began teaching 
some children’s singing classes in Chicago, a lady called 
on him one day and said, “There is a little singing girl 
belonging to one of your classes who is dying. She wants 
you to go and see her.” Mr. Sankey says, “I went to her 
home—a little frame cottage—and there I found a little 
maid dying—one whom I had known so well in the Thurs- 
day evening meetings. I said, ‘My dear child, how is it 
with you?’. 

“ “Will you pray for my father and mother as pak pray 
for us?’ was the reply. 

““But how is it with yourself?’ I again asked. 

““Oh, sir,’ she answered, ‘they tell me I am about to 
die, but I have found the Lord Jesus Christ.’ 

“When did you become a Christian?” I inquired. 

“Don’t you remember one Thursday when you were 
teaching me to sing: 


“Tam so glad that Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me”; 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 135 


and don’t you remember how you told us that if we only 
gave our hearts to Him, He would love us?—and I gave 
mine to Him.’ ” 


No. 118. 


“I GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE, MY PRECIOUS BLOOD 
I SHED.” 


Francis R. Havercau, 1838—1876. 


During a Western Sunday School convention, there arose 
a cry of dissatisfaction, “A ring! A ring!” The strange and 
false charge was made that the managers were conducting 
the convention according to some arranged scheme. Quite 
a discordant excitement ensued, during which a distinguished 
singer who was present was called on to sing. He sang: 


“T gave My life for thee, 
My precious blood I shed 
That thou might’st ransomed be, 
And quickened from the dead; 
All this I did for thee— 
What hast thou done for Me?” 


Through the song Christ seemed to whisper to the discor- 
dant convention, “Peace, be still,’ and when the song had 
ceased, a calm, Christ-like spirit had filled the convention 
and continued with it to the end. 


No. 119. 
“lM BUT A STRANGER HERE.” 


Rev. THomas Rawson Tay or, 1807—1835. 


In an almshouse there was an old colored woman who 
had no relatives in the world and no money but what visitors 


136 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


sometimes gave her. But she was a true Christian. She had 
known sorrows, but Jesus had blessed her by giving her 
comfort and strength to bear them. They called her 
“Aunty.” She was too feeble to leave her room, and so she 
used to hold services by herself on Sundays; and once a 
month she was in the habit of taking the communion all 
alone. A Christian lady, who sometimes visited that alms- 
house, went there one Sunday morning. She generally 
visited “Aunty” in her room. On hearing that this was 
the day on which she took the communion by herself, she 
asked the matron to let her stand outside the open door, 
that she might see the good old Christian go through this 
service, without knowing that anyone was near. This is 
the account given by the lady of what she saw and heard: 
“What I saw was a picture for a painter. The door, which 
was partly open, was opposite a raised window. A vine 
had climbed up the wire grating of the window, and was 
filled with blossoms. The fragrance came in on the Sabbath 
air with the bright sunshine. There on a bench sat the old 
woman, not knowing that anyone was near. Her dress was 
clean and neatly ironed, and the cap upon her head was 
as white as snow. Before her was a little pine table, 
covered with a clean white cotton cloth. There was nothing 
on the table but a white earthen plate, on which were a 
few small pieces of bread, and an earthen tea cup filled with 
water, while at her side lay a Bible and a small hymn 
book. She began the service by singing a few verses from 
memory, of an old communion hymn. Then she opened the 
Bible and read the story of the Crucifixion as given by 
Matthew. At the close of the reading she reverently 
repeated the words: ‘The Lord Jesus, the same night He 
was betrayed took bread and blessed it;’ then holding the 
plate of bread in her hands, upon the table, she bowed her 
head in silent prayer. Then she went on with the Bible 
words, ‘Take, eat; this is My body, given for you: Do 
this in remembrance of Me.’ As she spoke these words, she 
took a piece of bread from the plate, and with closed eyes, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 137 


in silence and in tears she ate the bread. Again she sang 
a verse, ‘Nearer my God, to thee.’ Then she went on with 
the Bible words, ‘After the same manner also He took the 
cup, and gave thanks”; and with the tea cup of water in 
her hand, she again offered prayer; but this time, though 
her voice was low, almost a whisper, I was able to catch 
her words. As I listened I lost sight of the aimshouse, and 
felt almost as if I were in heaven. When her prayer and 
thanksgiving were over she solemnly took the cup, and as 
she lifted it to her lips, repeated the words of Jesus, ‘Drink 
ye all of it; this cup is the new testament of my blood, shed 
for the remission of sins: do this in remembrance of Me.’ 
Then she drank from the cup, and setting it down on the 
table, again bowed her head in silent prayer. Then suddenly 
raising her head she exclaimed, ‘Hallelujah! Glory to God!’ 
—a sweet smile like that of an angel lighting up her dark 
face. ‘I sees de gates,’ she said, looking up to the ceiling 
of the room. ‘I sees de door ob Heben open! I hears de 
angels singing! Yes, I’s on de road! I’s almost home! 
Hallelujah!’ Then she sang: 


‘I’m but a stranger here, 
Heaven is my: home; 
Earth is a desert drear, 
Heaven is my home: 
Danger and sorrow stand 
Round me on every hand; 
Heaven is my fatherland— 
Heaven is my home.’ 


At the close of the service she turned and saw me standing 
at the door. ‘Why, chile,’ she said, ‘I didn’t know you was 
dere. I thought there was no one near ole “Aunty” but 
de blessed Lord and de angels.” 


138 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 120. 
“FREE FROM THE LAW, OH, HAPPY CONDITION.” 
Purp Briss, 1838—1876. 


A gentleman in Edinburgh was in great distress of soul, 
and happened to linger in a pew after the noon meeting. 
The choir had remained to practice, and began: 


“Free from the law, oh happy condition! 
Jesus hath bled, and there is remission”’; 


Quickly the Spirit of God carried that truth home to the 
. awakened conscience, and he was at rest in the finished 
work of Jesus. 


NO el, 
“THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW I MUST GO.” 
Puiu Buss, 1838—1876. 


When Moody and Sankey were holding meetings in 
Boston, a young lady came into the inquiry room one eve- 
ning in great distress, saying she had been seeking for 
years for forgiveness of her sins, but had kept the matter 
very secret and never intended to confess Christ till He 
had given her abundant light and assurance. She would 
not promise to make known her seeking to her companions, 
and went away as dark as she came, carrying with her, 
however, the verse, “He that believeth not God maketh him 
a liar.” She returned in a few nights, and while Mr. Sankey 
was singing: 

“There’s a light in the valley, 
There’s a light in the valley for me, 
And no evil will I fear, 
While my Shepherd is so near; 
There’s a light in the valley for me,” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 139 


she said, “I will do anything for such a Savior,” and peace 


came to her at once. In the inquiry room she arose and 
said, “I will take Jesus.” 


No. 122. 
“SOWING THE SEED BY THE DAYLIGHT FAIR.” 


Mrs. Emity S. Oakry, 1828—1883. 


The following letter was written to Major Whittle after 
the death of Mr. Bliss. 


Chicago, March 8, 1877. 

At the breaking out of the war in 1861, I homecned 
to take service in the army, and soon after was ap- 
pointed a First Lieutenant in the regular army. At that 
time I was not yet eighteen years of age, and never had 
been away from home influences. I had never tasted 
any kind of intoxicating liquor, and did not know one 
eard from another. The regiment to which I was as- 
signed was principally officered by young men, many of 
whom were old in dissipation. The new life was an 
attractive one, and I entered upon it with avidity. 
In a very few months I became a steady drinker and a 
constant card player. I do not remember to have made 
any attempt to resist the encroachments of vice; on 
the contrary I took a mad delight in all forms of dissi- 
pation. I laughed at the caution of older heads, and 
asserted with all the egotism of a boy, that I could 
abandon my bad habits at any time. But the time 
speedily came when I recognized the fact that my evil 
desires had obtained the complete mastery of my will, 
and that I was no longer able to exercise any control 
over myself. From that hour I knew no peace. The 
years that followed were a succession of struggles 
against the dominion of my appetite, and a repetition of 
failures. With each failure, I lost something of my 
power of resistance and gained something of evil. In 


140 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


1870, I resigned my commission and returned to civil 
life, determined to make one last stand against my pas- 
sions by breaking away from my old associations and 
beginning a new life. The result was attained in my 
condition a few months ago. I do not like to recall the 
past six years. They are as a frightful dream, from 
which, thank God! I was awakened; but the recollection 
of which will always bring sorrow and remorse. When ° 
the Tabernacle was opened, last fall, I was in Chicago, 
presumably on my way to Minnesota. Only a few 
weeks before, I had left my family, promising with my 
last words that I would stop drinking, and try once more 
to be a sober man. I did not keep the promise five 
minutes; I could not. I stopped here actuated by a 
desire to indulge, unrestrained, my appetite for liquor 
and cards, and in those few weeks I had taken a fearful 
plunge downward. At last I had made up my mind that 
there was absolutely no hope for me, and I wanted the 
end to come quickly. I gave myself up to the wildest 
debauchery, and speculated with a reckless indifference 
on how much longer my body could endure the fearful 
strain. In anticipation of sudden death, I carefully 
destroyed all evidences of my identity, so that my 
friends might never know the dog’s death I had died. 
It was while in this condition that I one day wandered 
into the Tabernacle and found a seat in the gallery. I 
looked at the happy faces about me, and I hated them. 
I had all the vindictive feeling of a wild animal hunted 
to his last covert and waiting in impotent rage the 
final blow that is to end his miserable life. I did not 
pay much attention to the service. I was drowsy and 
stupefied with liquor. But after a while there was a 
perfect stillness, out of which presently rose the voice of 
Mr. Sankey in the song, “What shall the harvest be?” 
The words and music attracted my attention, and I 
straightened up to listen. They stirred me with a 
strange sensation, and when presently he sang: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 141 


“Sowing the seed of a lingering pain, 
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain, 
Sowing the seed of a tarnished name, 
Sowing the seed of eternal shame, 

Oh, what shall the harvest be?” 


The words pierced me like an arrow. My deadened 
conscience was aroused, and with one swift glance 
memory recalled my bright boyhood, my wasted man- 
hood, and showed me my lost opportunities. Every 
word of the song was true of my own case, and 
in bitter agony I was reaping the harvest my mis- 
deeds had brought me. I thought of my old mother, 
my loving, faithful wife and children, and of how 
they, too, were compelled to reap of my harvest of 
dishonor. My awakened conscience lashed me as with 
a whip of scorpions, and I rushed from the Tabernacle 
and sought to drown its voice in more whiskey. But 
it was of no use. Wherever I went, whether to the bar 
of the saloon, or to the gaming table, or to the solitude 
of my own room, before my eyes in letters of fire were 
always the words, “What shall the harvest be?” For 
two weeks I endured this torture, having no rest, until 
at last on my knees I cried to God for mercy, and He 
heard my prayer. Broken, weak, and vile and helpless, 
I came to Him, trusting that His love and compassion 
would regard even me. And I have not trusted in vain. 


No. 128. 
“SHALL WE GATHER AT THE RIVER?” 


Rev. Rosert Lowry, 1826—. 


The following incident is given by an American lady 
writing from Cairo, Egypt. “The three hours we could 
stay were full of work for heart and hand. One boy from 


142 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


a Highland regiment especially excited my interest. He 
had lost a limb, and could not, the surgeon said, live through 
the night. I stopped at his side to see if there was any- 
thing I could do for him. He lay with closed eyes, murmur- 
ing ‘Mother,—mother!’ I dipped my handkerchief in a 
basin of ice-water, and bathed his forehead where the fever 
flushes burned. ‘Oh, that is good!’ he said opening his 
eyes. Seeing me bending over him, he caught my hand 
and kissed it. “Thank you, lady,’ he sdid, and smiled. ‘It 
minds me o’ my mother.’ ‘Could I write to your mother?’ 
T asked. 

““No,’ he said, ‘the surgeon promised to do that; but 
could you, would you sing to me?’ 

“T hesitated a moment and looked around. The gleam 
of the sun on the yellow water of the Nile, as the western 
rays slanted down, caught my eye, and suggested the river 
whose streams make glad the City of God. I began to 
sing in a low voice the hymn, ‘Shall we gather at the river?’ 
Eager hands were raised around us to listen more intently, 
while bass and tenor voices, weak and tremulous, came in 
on the chorus: 


‘Yes, we’ll gather at the river, 
The beautiful, the beautiful river— 
Gather with the saints at the river 
That flows by the throne of God.’ 


When the song was ended, I looked into the face of the 
boy—he was not over twenty—and said: ‘Shall you be 
there?’ 

“Yes” he answered, with his blue eyes shining, while 
the light, that never was on land or sea, irradiated his 
face, ‘I’ll gather with the saints at the river.’ 

“The tears gathered in my eyes as I thought of the 
mother, in her far off Scottish home, watching and waiting 
for tidings of her soldier boy who was breathing away his 
life in an Egyptian hosptial; and I sang: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 143 


‘In the sweet by-and-by, 
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.” 


then stooped and kissed his white forehead. 

““Come again, lady, come again,’ I heard on all sides, 
as we left the barracks. I shall go, but I shall not find my 
Scottish laddie, for by tomorrow’s reveille he will have 
crossed the river.” ; 


No. 124. 
“BEGIN, MY TONGUE, SOME HEAVENLY THEME,” 
Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


On one occasion when William Dawson, the Yorkshire 
preacher, was giving out a hymn, he suddenly stopped, and 
said, “I was coming once through the town of Leeds, and 
saw a poor little half-witted lad rubbing at a brass plate, 
trying to rub out the name; but the poor lad did not know 
that the harder he rubbed, the brighter it shone. Now, 
friends, let us sing: 


“Engraved as in eternal brass 
The mighty promise shines; 
Nor can the powers of darkness raze 
Those everlasting lines.” 


Then, as though he saw the devil rubbing, he said, “Satan 
cannot rub it off”— 


“His Hand hath writ the Sacred Word 
With an immortal pen.” 


144 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 125. 
“HOW SWEET AND AWFUL IS THE PLACE.” 
Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Rev. Robert Moffat many years ago sent home an 
-account of a visit he paid to Borigelong, one of his out- 
stations. On the Sabbath that he was there, one hundred 
and fifteen native converts joined with him in partaking of 
the Lord’s Supper. It happened that at the very same time, 
certain heathen ceremonies were being observed by the 
heathen at Borigelong. Outside the little chapel, there were 
shouting and dancing, and croaking, and grunting, and all 
kinds of wild noises. Inside, a band of Christians were 
quietly and solemnly seated around the table, on which 
stood the bread and wine, showing forth the broken Body 
and poured out Blood of their Savior; the sweet hymn rose 
upon their blended voices: 


“Why was I made to hear Thy voice, 
And enter while there’s room; 

When thousands make a wretched choice, 
And rather starve than come?” 


Here and there tears were seen rolling down the dark 
cheeks; and here and there the sigh of gratitude and love, 
or of pity, was heard, as they, who sat within that happy 
Christian fold, listened to the uproar of the wicked idolaters 
without and thought to themselves “And such were we! but 
we are washed, but we are sanctified, but we are justified.” 


No. 126. 
“T WAS A WANDERING SHEEP.” 


Rey. Horatirus Bonar, 1808. 


During a revival in a female seminary in Massachusetts, 
many of the pupils had shown the natural “enmity” of the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 145 


“carnal mind” to spiritual things. Helen B—— was among 
those who noticed the Spirit’s work only by a curling lip 
and a scornful laugh. It seemed in vain to talk with her, 
or seek to induce her to attend a prayer meeting. Christians 
could do nothing more than to pray for her. One evening, 
however, as a praying band had gathered, the door opened, 
and she entered. Her eyes were downcast and her face was 
calm and very pale. There was something in her look that 
told of an inward struggle. She took her seat silently, and 
the exercises of the meeting proceeded. A few lines were 
sung, two or three prayers offered, and then as was their 
custom, each repeated a few verses of some favorite hymn. 
One followed another in succession until it came to the 
turn of the newcomer. There was a pause, and a perfect 
silence, and then, without lifting her eyes from the floor, 
she commenced: 


“T was a wandering sheep, 
I did not love the fold.” 


Her voice was low, but distinct, and every word, as she 
uttered it, thrilled the hearts of the listeners. She repeated 
one stanza after another of that beautiful hymn and not an 
eye save her own was dry, as, with sweet emphasis, she 
pronounced the last lines: 


“No more a wayward child, 
I seek no more to roam; 
I love my heavenly Father’s voice, 
I love, I love His home.” 


That single hymn told all. The wandering sheep, the proud 
and wayward child had returned. 


146 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 127. 


“DEPTH OF MERCY, CAN THERE BE?” 


Rev. CuHarues Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


During the Moody and Sankey meetings in Edinburgh, 
Scotland, in 1874, some ladies began to occupy the time 
between the morning and afternoon Sabbath services, in 
singing to a very destitute class, in a public institution, 
which is a sort of cross between a poorhouse and a prison. 
All the inmates are sufferers, some from poverty and sick- 
ness only, and some from something worse. The ladies have 
received a welcome that has filled them with delight. The 
poor creatures literally weep for joy on their entrance. One 
woman who has been stricken by a paralysis partly physical 
and partly mental, and has not spoken a word for three 
years, was observed by the matron to be saying something 
after the ladies retired. She was repeating over and over 
again to herself: 


“Depth of mercy, can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me?” 


No. 128. 
“A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD.” 


Rev. Martin Lutuer, 1483—1546. 


About four miles north of the village of Herkimer, New 
York, there lay in the days of the Revolutionary war, and 
remains to this day, a wealthy little German settlement 
called Shell’s Bush. Its principal proprietor was John 
Christian Shell. This pious and fearless patriot, had a wife 
who equalled him in courage and nobility, and six children, 
the youngest two of whom were twins but eight years old. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 147 


Shell built a blockhouse for his defence against Indians, a 
large, substantial structure, two stories high. The first had 
no windows, only a strong door and small loopholes through 
which the inmates could thrust their rifles. The second 
story was well lighted and was built out two or three feet 
over the first with loopholes and trap doors in the projecting 
floor, so that shots could be fired or heavy missiles dropped 
upon any close assailants. On the afternoon of August 6, 
1781, a large band of Indians under Donald McDonald, a 
savage Scotch refugee, made a sudden descent on the village 
of Shell’s Bush. Most of the inhabitants, alarmed by 
rumors, had fled for refuge to Fort Dayton, now Herkimer. 
But Shell himself would not move a foot in flight. He said 
every man’s house was his castle, and he should defend his 
to the last. He was at work with his sons in the field when 
the Indians sprang from the woods with fierce yells. The 
two little boys were so far from the house that the enemy ~ 
seized them ere they could reach it, but the father and his 
remaining sons got inside the door, and had it firmly barri- 
caded when the Indians rushed up. It was two o’clock when 
the battle began, and it raged fiercely till nightfall. The 
Indians hurled themselves furiously against the blockhouse, 
but were driven back by a volley, every shot of which laid 
a warrior low. Astonished at their reception, the enemy 
drew off to consider; but knowing there could be only a 
handful within, they charged again, and again were repulsed 
with heavy loss. They had not reckoned on the whole of 
their host, for the German’s wife, whom they had not 
thought of was equal to several men. She loaded the rifles 
while her men folks fired, and she was so expert that they 
were never empty handed. Maddened by their losses the 
savages made desperate onslaughts once and again through 
the long summer afternoon, the German’s rifles doing fearful 
work among them as they battered and shrieked against 
the house. At length they charged in a new form, led by 
McDonald with a crowbar in his hand. They sprang 
against the door, and while the Scotchman plied his bar 


148 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


vigorously, the Indians covered him with their bodies. The 
door began to grow weak, but none of the defendants could 
leave to defend it. Their place was aloft, whence they 
poured down the shot on the infuriated mass below. So 
deadly was their fire that the Indians wavered and broke. 
Shell drew a bead on McDonald thus exposed, and shat- 
tered his leg. The assailants fled, and rushing down to the 
door, the patriots drew the wounded leader in before he 
could escape. Weakened, and confused, the Indians drew 
off for a space to consult. It was a welcome respite for the 
little garrison, which sorely needed rest. But Shell had his 
own ideas as to how the time should be occupied. He was 
a Godly German, a lover of Luther, and like Cromwell’s 
“Tronsides,”’ he was a hymn-singer in hours of conflict. His 
first thought now was of gratitude to God. So calling his 
family to bless the Lord, their strength, who taught their 
hands to war and their fingers to fight, he mounted to the 
upper story and began, with a deep, powerful voice, to sing 
the noble hymn of Luther, that song of castles, that battle 
song, the song of trust and triumph. Suddenly on the calm 
summer air, which had so lately rung with noise of war and 
battle shriek, rose the strong words from the depths of the 
beleaguered blockhouse: 


“A mighty fortress is our God, 
A bulwark never failing; 

Our helper, He, amid the flood 
Of mortal ills prevailing. 

For still our ancient foe 

Doth seek to work us woe; 

His craft and power are great, 

And armed with cruel hate, 
On earth is not his equal.” 


Again the contest was renewed and assault after assault 
was met and repulsed, until at last the savage foe fled to 
the woods carrying with them the two little prisoners. But 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 149 


as they went the brave, God-trusting German, lifted his 
voice once more in the closing burst of the mighty hymn: 


“Let goods and kindred go, 
This mortal life also: 
The body they may kill: 
God’s truth abideth still, 

His kingdom is forever.” 


Among the German dwellers in Herkimer, Shell’s memory 
is green to this day. There, too, may be heard a rude ballad 
of his exploits, composed at the time, and which closes with 
these quaint words: 


“Come all you Tryon country men, 
And never be dismayed; 
But trust in the Lord, 
And He will be your aid. 


“Trust in the Lord with all your might, 
And call upon His Name; 
And He will help you as He did Shell, 
To His immortal fame.” 
—Christian Weekly. 


No. 129. 
“MAXWELTON’S BRAES ARE BONNIE.” 


Mr. Dovetas. 


Just at evening on the night before the attack on the 
Great Redan, the Scottish soldiers in the Crimea joined in 
the familiar ballad-song of “Annie Laurie.” A few began 
it outside the tents, but in a very little while hundreds 
came forth through the whole camp, and, with the manliest 


150 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


of voices aud tenderest of hearts, struck in, hardy old vete- 
rans as they were, unused to the melting mood, yet subdued 
at times even to tears as they sang. The voices on the 
earlier lines of the verses were gentle and plaintive; but 
when they reached the closing chorus it seemed as if they 
could hardly sing strongly enough. Great waves of sound 
rolled across the plain, over the trenches, and up against the 
walls of the moonlit citadel. The enthusiasm was intense; 
there seemed but the throbbing of one mighty heart, the 
beating of one pulse through all the battalions. 


No. 130. 
“SINGING FOR JESUS, SINGING FOR JESUS.” 


Mrs. Fanny J. VAN ALSTYNE, 1823. 


The singing of this hymn by its author, on one occasion 
in the Effingham Theater, Whitechapel, London, caught. the 
ear of a poor, despairing man who was on his way to the 
docks to drown himself. It reminded him of a mother’s 
prayers in boyhood’s days, and brought him a penitent to 
the Savior. 


No. 131. 
“LORD, I AM THINE, ENTIRELY THINE.” 


Rev. SAMUEL Daviss, 1723—1761. 


A Christian captain, who had a Christian crew, was 
caught near a rocky shore, in a driving storm. They were 
being driven rapidly toward the rocks, when he ordered 
them to cast anchor. They did so but it broke. He ordered 
them to cast the second. They did so but it dragged. He 
then ordered them to cast the third and last. They cast it 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 151 


while the captain went down to his room to pray. He fell 
on his knees and said, “O Lord, this vessel is Thine, these 
noble men on deck are Thine. If it be more for Thy glory 
that our vessel be wrecked on the rocks, and we go down in 
the sea, Thy will be done. But if it be more for Thy glory 
that we live to work for Thee, then hold the anchor.” 
Calmly he arose to return to the deck, and as he went, he 
heard a chorus of voices singing: 


“Lord, I am Thine, entirely Thine, 
Purchased and saved by blood divine; 
With full consent Thine would I be, 
And own Thy sovereign right in me.” 


It seemed like an angel song. Reaching the deck, he found 
his brave men standing with their hands on the cable, that 
they might feel the first giving of the anchor, on which hung 
their lives, and looking calmly on the raging of the ele- © 
ments, as they sang the hymn. The anchor held till the 
storm was past, and they anchored safe within the bay. 
“Trophies of Song.” 


No. 132. 


“SHOW PITY LORD, O LORD FORGIVE.” 
Rey. Issac Watts, 1674—1748. 


At an inquiry meeting, an old gentleman once said, “Over 
forty years ago, during a revival in Virginia, a young prodi- 
gal felt it was time for him to start home. He had never 
been accustomed to pray and felt afraid to venture near 
the Majestic Ruler of the universe. He was then attending 
an academy, a mile distant from his father’s home. Taking 
a short cut through the fields to his home, he thought he 
could possibly find some suitable place to unburden his 
heavily laden heart in prayer. As he saw a retired place in 
a fence corner, he concluded to open his lips there. But his 


152 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


courage failed him, and he said to himself, ‘In the distance 
is a big oak tree; that will shield me.’ But when under the 
tree his stubborn will would still not yield. A fork in the 
road, and nearly a dozen other places he tried, but when he 
drew near to them, the tempter also drew near, and caused 
postponement, until at length he got to the gate at the head 
of the lane leading to the house. This was the last resort 
where he could pray unseen. It seemed to him as the turn- 
ing point. As he sank at Jesus’ feet, a hymn came to his 
lips as the language of his heart, and so he cried out: 


‘Show pity, Lord, O Lord forgive; 
Let a repenting sinner live.’ 


The six verses of that hymn-prayer decided his destiny. 
He became a minister and is now the old man you see 
before you.” 


The daughter of a wealthy infidel, during his absence, 
stole away to a revival meeting. As the loving heart of 
Jesus was unfolded in the sermon, she wept aloud. On 
reaching home she told her mother where she had been and 
how she felt. Her mother became very angry and said, 
“Your father will banish you if you persist.” The next 
evening found her at the same place of prayer in spite 
of her mother’s threats. At the close of the sermon she 
cried for mercy and poured out her heart in sobs and 
fervent prayers. Hymn after hymn was sung, and many 
prayers offered on her behalf. The last hymn was being 
sung. It was the one beginning: 


“Show pity Lord, O Lord, forgive’; 
The last verse was reached. 


“Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord, 
Whose hope, still hovering round Thy word, 
Would light on some sweet promise there, 
Some sure support against despair.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH Ee oS 


As the last strain sounded in the ear of the penitent, she 
gently threw back her head and opened her calm, blue eyes, 
yet sparkling with tears, but they were tears that told of 
sins forgiven. Word reached her father, and as he reached 
home the daughter ran to the gate to meet him with a 
kiss, but he seized her rudely by the arm, and with his 
horsewhip whipped her out of the gate, telling her to begone, 
and with many curses forbade her return. Sadly she went 
weeping down the lane. A poor widow took her into her 
house. There she spent the night in prayer. Her father 
in great anguish did the same, for he could not sleep. He, 
too, sought and found mercy and sent for his daughter. 
whom he met and embraced at the same gate, saying, “I 
give you my heart and hand to go with you to heaven.” 
The mother followed, and all became united in Christ. 

IT was seated at the table of a boarding house, at which 
were some fifteen guests. One of these was a gentleman ~ 
full of animation, and whose vivacity created the impres- 
sion that whoever else might be affected by the solemnities 
of the time he was not. On a Sunday morning, Rev. Dr. 
Perrine preached an effective sermon on the consequences 
of a life of sin. _Full of unction and tenderness, its vivid 
pictures of the torments of hell produced a most solemn 
effect. As we were sitting at the dinner table, and remarks 
were freely passing in regard to the morning sermon, the 
young man above-mentioned expressed in strong terms his 
disapprobation of the sermon, and added, “Such preaching 
only hardens me and makes me worse.” 

I replied, “It is possible you think it makes you worse, 
when it only makes you conscious of sin that was before 
slumbering in your heart.” 

“No,” said he, “it hardens me. I am at this moment 
less susceptible to anything like conviction for hearing that 
discourse. I feel more inclined to resist everything like 
good impressions than usual.” 

“Yet,” I rejoined, “good impressions are those which are 
best adapted to secure the desired end; and I am greatly 


154 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


mistaken if an increase of the effect which you feel would 
not be greatly useful to you. If, for instance, you should — 
read now the fifty-first Psalm, ‘Show pity, Lord, O Lord, 
forgive,’ it would take a deep hold on your heart.” “Not 
the least,” said he, “I wish I had the book, I would read 
it to you.” 

“We have one,” said our landlady, who was fully aware 
of the excitement under which he was laboring; and the 
book was handed him, opened at the place. He commenced 
to read, with compressed lips, and firm voice: 


“Show pity, Lord, O Lord forgive; 
Let a repenting rebel live: 

Are not Thy mercies large and free, 
May not a sinner trust in Thee?” 


Toward the last part of the stanza a little tremulousness 
of voice was plainly discernible. He rallied again, how- 
ever, and commenced the third verse with more firmness: 


“Q wash my soul from every sin, 

And make my guilty conscience clean; 
Here on my heart the burden lies, 
And past offenses pain my eyes.” 


At the last part of this stanza his voice faltered more 
manifestly. He commenced the next verse with great 
energy, and read in a loud sonorous voice, the whole com- 
pany looking on in breathless silence: 


“My lips with shame my sins confess.” 
As he read the second line: 
“Against Thy law, against Thy grace,” 


his lips quivered, and his utterance became difficult. He 
paused a little, and entered upon the third line with an 
apparently new determination: 


“Lord, should Thy judgmeats grow severe,” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 155 


Yet before he came to the end his voice was almost totally 
choked; and when he began upon the fourth line: 


“T am condemned, but Thou art clear;” 


an aspect of utter discouragement marked his countenance, 
and he could only bring out, in broken sobs, “I am con- 
demned,” when his utterance changed to a heart-broken 
cry of grief, and he, rising at the same time, rushed from 
the room, as a deeply convicted sinner. 

Dr. BELCHER. 


No. 133. 
“STAND UP! STAND UP FOR JESUS!”—1858. 


Rey. GrorcE DurFFiELp, 1818—1888. 


During meetings in Pennsylvania, during the year 1858, 
when this hymn was written, it was often sung and referred 
to. One morning the parents of a little girl were awakened 
by the repeated call of their little girl from her crib, whose 
pleading voice kept saying, “Papa! Mama! Papa! Mama! 
Mis-ser Long say, ‘Tan up—tan up for Jesus.’” This little 
stammering voice went so deep down into the hearts of 
the parents, that in the same evening they did “stand up 
for Jesus” and became earnest and decided soldiers of the 
cross. 


No. 134. 
“COME, SACRED SPIRIT FROM ABOVE!” 


Rev. Puimre Doppriner, 1702—1751. 


A prayer meeting of a country village was attended by 
but few during a season of coldness. The pastor was absent, 


156 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


his place being supplied by one of his deacons, who, for 
months had been deeply mourning in secret the sad decline. 
The hymn he selected with which to commence the service 
was the one commencing, in the most recent collections, 
with the line above given. As first written, however, this 
is the first line of the second verse, and the first verse began: 


“Hear, gracious Sovereign, from Thy Throne, 
And send Thy various blessings down,” 


and it was with this verse that the deacon began. The last 
verse of the hymn reads: 


“In answer to our fervent cries, 
Give us to see Thy Church arise; 
Or if that blessing seem too great, 
Give us to mourn its low estate.” 


While reading this verse, the good man paused: it did not 
accord with the feelings of his heart: it was not the expres- 
sion of his prayer. He indulged a moment’s thought—swift 
and excellent; an alteration suggested itself—his eye spar- 
kled with joy, and out it came: 


“In answer to our fervent cries, 
Give us to see Thy Church arise; 
That blessing, Lord, is not too great 
Though now we mourn its low estate.” 


Every heart was arrested, and sudden emotion so over- 
powered all in the little assembly that they could scarcely 
sing the words; but each in silence gave to the sentiment 
his own earnest amen. They happily proved it to be true. 
From that evening a revival began; the church arose from 
its slumber to new faith and works; and very soon the 
windows of Heaven were opened, and plentiful blessing 
came. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 157 
No. 135. 
“JESUS I MY CROSS HAVE TAKEN.” 


Rev. Henry F. Lyte, 1793—1847. 


In the “Holland Purchase” a log church was built by 
Methodist pioneers. It flourished well for years, but even- 
tually some of the members died, and others moved away, 
till only one was left, when preaching also ceased. This 
mother in Israel sighed over the desolations in Zion. She 
loved the old forsaken sanctuary, and still kept going there 
on the Sabbath to worship God and plead the promises. 
At length it was noised abroad that she was a witch, that 
the old church was haunted with evil spirits, and that she 
went there to commune with them. Two young men, to . 
satisfy their curiosity, secreted themselves in the loft to 
‘watch her. On her arrival she took her seat by the altar. 
After reading the Bible, she announced the hymn: 


“Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave, and follow Thee.” 


and sang it with a sweet but trembling voice, then kneeled 
down and poured out her heart in fervent prayer. Her 
pleadings broke the hearts of the young men. They began 
to weep and cry for mercy. She invited them down from 
their hiding place. They obeyed, and there at the altar, 
where in other days she had seen many conversions, they 
too knelt, and sought and found the Savior. From that 
hour the meetings were resumed, and a flourishing church 
grew up, and the old meeting house was again made to 
resound with the songs of God’s people. 
Dr. STRICKLAND. 


158 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 136. 
“SWEET IS THE WORK, MY GOD, MY KING.” 
Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


During the war between the United States and Great 
Britain, in 1812, there lived in the Northern Neck, Vir- 
ginia, a man named Deacon Epa Norris. Being captured 
and taken to a British vessel, they sought in vain to obtain 
from him the position and numbers of the American army. 
The commandant of the ship gave a dinner to the officers 
of the fleet, and did Mr. Norris the honor to select him 
from the American prisoners of war to be a guest. The 
deacon, in his homespun attire, took his seat at the table 
with the aristocracy of the British navy. The company 
sat long at the feast; they drank toasts, told stories, laughed, 
and sang songs. At length Mr. Norris was called on for 
a song. He desired to excuse himself, but in vain: he must 
sing. He possessed a fine, strong musical voice. In an 
appropriate and beautiful air, he commenced singing: 


“Sweet is the work, my God, my King, 
To praise Thy Name, give thanks, and sing: 
To show Thy love by morning light 
And talk of all Thy truth by night.” 


Thoughts of home, and of lost religious privileges, and of 
his captivity, gave an unusual pathos and power to his 
singing. When he had done, a solemn silence ensued. At 
length the commandant broke it by saying: “Mr. Norris, 
you are a good man, and shall return at once to your family.” 
The commandant kept his word; for in-a few days Mr. 
Norris was sent ashore with a handsome present of salt— 
then more valuable in the country than gold. 
Dr. BELCHER. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 159 


Now 137. 
“BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS.” 


Rev. JoHN Fawcert, 1739—1817. 


After many years of separation, the Old and the New 
School divisions of the Presbyterian Church met in conven- 
tion in separate churches at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in 
1869. The act of reunion is thus described: 

“The two bodies having met in two churches, after- 
ward formed on opposite sides of the street, and then moved 
along one block, when a halt was made. The two modera- 
tors, who headed their respective columns, then approached 
and grasped each other’s hands, which example was fol- 
~ lowed by the two opposite ranks, until amidst welcomes, 
thanksgivings, and tears, they locked arms, and thus 
marched as one united host, to the temple of God, where 
they sang, ‘All hail the power of Jesus’ Name,’ and. then 
blended their voices in the grand old doxology, ‘Praise 
God, from Whom all blessings flow.’ The tide of feeling 
gradually rose till it reached its culmination, when Dr. 
Fowler, the moderator of the New School body, turned to 
Dr. Jacobus, the moderator of the Old School body, saying, 
‘My dear brother moderator, may we not, before I take 
my seat, perform a single act, symbolical of the union which 
has taken place between the two branches of the church. 
Let us clasp hands.’ This challenge was immediately re- 
sponded to, amid prolonged and deafening applause. After 
which the thousands present, amid flowing tears and swelling 
hearts, joined in singing: 


‘Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love; 
The fellowship of kindred minds 
Is like to that above.’ ” 


160 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 138. 
“HOW TEDIOUS AND TASTELESS THE HOURS.” 


Rev. Joun Newton, 1725—1807. 


During the Crimean war, a soldier was placed on guard 
as a picket several nights in succession, and became so 
forlorn by being night after night exposed to the mud, fog, 
and rain, in the darkness of the night, that he resolved to 
end his misery by committing suicide. While retiring to 
a secluded spot to execute his purpose, he heard some one 
in the dark tramping through the mud and rain cheerfully 
singing a hymn. As he listened he found it came from a 
Christian whose faith enabled him to sing even amid sur- 
rounding gloom. The soldier was singing: 


“Content with beholding His Face, 
My all to His pleasure resigned, 
No changes of season or place, 
Would make any change in my mind.” 


The despondent soldier went back to his beat resolved to 
make the best of his circumstances. 


No. 1389. 
“FROM THE CROSS, UPLIFTED HIGH.” 


Rev. THomas Hawetrs, 1732—1820. 


Recently, says Mr. Ralph Wells, we admitted six mis- 
sion children from our school into the Church. When the 
session came to examine the candidates, one of the elders 
asked a little girl of twelve years, “Maggie, what first 
interested your heart in the Savior?” 

“Tt was one of those large hymns, sir, one of the printed 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 161 


hymns they use in the school.”” The hymn was that beauti- 
ful one: 
“From the cross uplifted high, 
Where the Savior deigns to die, 
What melodious sounds I hear 
Bursting on my ravished ear! 
Love’s redeeming work is done, 
Come and welcome, sinner, come 


1 


“Oh, sir!” said this child, fresh from her tenement home, 
“it, was those kind words: ‘Come and welcome, sinner, 
come.’ I said to myself that means ME; for, if it means 

. . . . q 
‘sinner’ it is for poor Maggie.” 


No. 140. 


“PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW.” 
BisHop Tuomas Ken, 1637—1710. 


In the great cotton famine in England, which desolated 
Lancashire for long and weary months, the conduct of the 
operatives was the admiration of the world. ‘There were 
no riots and no excess of crimes. The people, men and 
women, went into the Sunday-schcol houses and prayed. 
They had been taught to do so, and they were upheld in 
the time of trial by the truths they had learned. When 
the first wagonload of cotton arrived, the people unhooked 
the horses and drew it themselves, and, surrounding it, 
began to sing. What do you think they sang? They sang 
the grand old doxology, while the tears came flowing down 
their cheeks: 


“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow, 
Praise Him, all creatures here below; 
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.” 
Rev. Wm. M. Taytor. 


162 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Chaplain McCabe says that while the prisoners of the 
Union army were incarcerated in Libby Prison, day after 
day they saw comrades passing away, and their number 
increased by fresh, living recruits for the grave. One 
night, about ten o’clock, through the stillness and the 
darkness, they heard the tramp of coming feet, that soon 
stopped before the prison door, until arrangements could 
be made inside. In the company was a young Baptist 
minister, whose heart almost fainted as he looked on those 
cold walls and thought of the suffering inside. Tired and 
weary, he sat down, put his face in his hands and wept. 
Just then a lone voice sung out from an upper window: 


“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow;” 
and a dozen manly voices joined in the second line: 
“Praise Him all creatures here below”; 


and then by the time the third line was reached, more than 
a score of hearts were full, and these joined to send the 
words on high: 


“Praise Him above, ye heavenly host”; 


and by this time, the prison was all alive, and seemed to 
quiver with the sacred song, as from every room and cell 
those brave men sang: 


“Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.” 


As the song died out on the still night that enveloped in 
darkness the city, the young man arose and happily said: 


“Prisons would palaces prove 
If Jesus would dwell with him there.” 


In company with her father and some friends, a little 
girl of ten years, rode on horseback one summer day, to the 


r 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 163 


top of Mount Washington. On that rugged summit nothing 
grew but some pale green moss; but the view all around was 
vast and impressive. Below, stretching outwards in all 
directions, lay a deep, silver sea of clouds, amid which 
lightnings were seen to part, and writhe like gilded serpents, 
whilst the roar of the thunder came pealing up to the moun- 
tain. top. The rain was pouring in torrents below, but 
above the sun shone in cloudless splendor. The eye wan- 
dered like Noah’s dove, but there was no resting place 
in that wide space. ‘Well, Lucy,” said her father, “there 
is nothing to be seen here, is there?” 

The child paused, clasped her hands, and then said 
reverently,—‘‘O papa! I see the doxology; all around seems 
to say: 

‘Praise God from Whom all blessings flow, 
Praise Him all creatures here below.’ ”’ 


Pleased with his child’s observation, the father himself 


caught a fresh inspiration. 
G. J. STEVENSON, 


No. 141. 
“CENTLE JESUS, MEEK AND MILD.” 


Rev. Cuartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


John B. Gough relates the following in one of his lectures: 
“T went one day with a friend away up to a small garret 
room. A feeble voice said, ‘Come in,’ and we went in. 
There was no light, but as soon as our eyes were dilated 
to the gloom, we saw, lying on a heap of chips and shavings, 
a boy about ten years of age, pale, but’ with a’ singularly 
sweet face. We asked the boy, ‘What are you doing there?’ 
‘Hush, hush! I am hiding.’ 

ry Hiding? What for?’ 

“The child showed his white delicate arms, covered with 
bruises and swollen. ‘Who was it beat you like that?’ 

“<Aush! don’t tell him; my father did it.’ 


164 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“What for?’ 

““Poor father got drunk, and beat me because I wouldn’t 
steal.’ 

““T)id you ever steal?’ 

“Ves, sir, I was a thief once.’ 

“<Then, why don’t you steal now?’ 

“ “Because I went to ragged school, and they taught me 
“Thou shalt not steal,’ and told me about God in heaven. 
I will not steal, sir, if my father kills me.’ 

““My friend said, ‘I don’t know what to do with you. 
Here is a shilling. I will see what I can do for you.’ 

“The boy looked at it a moment, and then said, ‘But, 
please, sir, wouldn’t you like to hear my little hymn?’ We 
thought it strange that lying there, without fire, without 
- food, bruised and beaten, he could sing a hymn. How 
could he sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? But we 
said, ‘Yes, we will hear you.’ And then in a low sweet 
voice, the child sang: 


‘Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, 
Look upon a little child; 

Pity my simplicity, 

Suffer me to come to Thee. 


‘Fain I would to Thee be brought; 
Dearest God, forbid it not: 

Give me, dearest God, a place, 

In the kingdom of Thy grace.’ 


“<That’s my little hymn; goodbye.’ 

“We went again in the morning, mounted the stairs, 
knocked at the door—no answer; opened it and went in. 
The shilling lay on the floor, and there, too, lay the boy, 
with a brave smile on his face, as if to make the best of 
it; and so he had, for he was dead. In the night he had 
gone home.” 


In an institution for feeble-minded children was placed 
a little girl from Virginia, who had been speechless from her 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 165 


birth. She was familiarly known as “Becca.” Dr. Parish, 
the superintendent, describes her as one afraid of every 
living thing. Blocks and sticks she would nurse, but if-a 
nicely dressed doll were presented, she would scream with 
fear. She loved nobody, and seemed fond of hurting little 
children and destroying their playthings. Little by little 
her antipathies and coldness of disposition gave way, and 
she began to show affection for her matron. She soon 
began to love to sit in the school room with children and 
listen to their little songs and hymns. In her eighth year 
she would steal away and make sounds when alone in some 
hiding place. One summer evening her nurse had put her 
to bed early. The birds were singing in the tree by her 
window; the sun had just gone away and left its golden 
shadows on the. western sky; and in this sweet hour of 
twilight the imprisoned soul of the little child broke its 
bands, her tongue was loosed, and she lifted her voice 
and sang. The nurse, hearing the sound, hastened up the 
stairway, and, listening outside the bedroom door, was 
rejoiced to hear “Becca” commingling her voice with that 
of the birds without, and as her first utterance the appropri- 
ate language of the hymn she had heard the other children 
sing: 

“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, 

Look upon a little child! 

Pity my simplicity; 
Suffer me to come to Thee.” 


No. 142. 
“MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE.” 


Rev. Ray Paumegr, 1808—1887. 


Dr. Palmer, the author of this hymn, states that while 
a pastor at Albany, New York, a young man who had been 


166 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


accustomed to attend upon his ministry came one Sunday 
morning to his church some time before the time of service; 
and to pass away the time he opened a hymn book that 
lay in the pew. His eyes fell at once upon the words: 


“My faith looks up to Thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary, 
Savior divine!” 


It was just the language suited to his sin-burdened heart. 
While reading the hymn, the Spirit applied the truth with 
divine power, so that he looked at once to Jesus and lived. 
Calling afterward at the residence of Dr. Palmer to tell 
him how he had found the Savior, he learned to his great 
joy, for the first time, that the one to whom he was telling 
the story of his conversion had written the hymn. 


No. 148. 
“ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS’ NAME.” 


Rev. Epwarp PrErRRONET, 1726—1792. 


Rey. E. P. Scott, while laboring as a missionary in India, 
saw on the street one of the strangest looking heathen his 
eyes had ever rested on. On inquiry, he found that he 
was one of the inland tribes that lived away in the moun- 
tain districts, and which came down once a year to trade. 
Upon further investigation he found that the Gospel had 
never been preached to them, and that it was very hazard- 
ous to venture among them because of their murderous 
propensities. He was stirred with earnest desire to break 
unto them the bread of life. He went to his lodging place, 
fell on his knees, and pleaded for divine direction. Arising 
from his knees, he packed his valise, took his violin, with 
which he was accustomed to sing, and his pilgrim staff, 
and started in the direction of their mountain home. As 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 167 


he bade his fellow missionaries farewell, they said: “We 
shall never see you again. It is madness for you to go.” 

“But,” said he, “I must carry Jesus to them.” For two 
days he traveled, meeting scarcely a human being, until at 
last he found himself in the mountains, and suddenly sur- 
rounded by a crowd of savages. Every spear was pointed 
instantly at his heart. He expected that every moment 
would be his last. Not knowing of any other resource, he 
tried the power of singing the name of Jesus to Linens 
Drawing forth his violin, he began with closed eyes to sing 
and play: 


“All hail the power of Jesus’ name, 
Let angels prostrate fall: 

Bring forth the royal diadem, 
And crown Him Lord of all.” 


Being afraid to open his eyes, he sang on till the third 
verse, and while singing the stanza: 


“Tet every tribe and every tongue, 
That bound creation’s call, 
Now shout in universal song, 
The crownéd Lord of all,” 


he opened his eyes to see what they were going to do, 
when lo! the spears had dropped from their hands, and the 
big tears were dropping from their eyes. They afterward 
invited him to their homes. He spent two and a half years 
among them. His labors were so richly rewarded that when 
he was compelled to leave them by reason of impaired 
health, and return to this country, they followed him 
between thirty and forty miles. “Oh! missionary,” said 
they. when parting, “come back to us again. There are 
tribes beyond us which never heard the glad tidings of 
salvation.” He could not resist their entreaties. After 
visiting America he went back again to his labors and died 
among them. 


168 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


About forty years ago, William Dawson, a Methodist 
local preacher, a farmer, but an original genius, and a 
striking and popular preacher, was speaking in London on 
the Divine offices of Christ. After setting Him forth as 
the great Teacher and Priest, he showed Him in His glory 
as the King of Saints. He proclaimed Him as King in His 
own right, and then proceeded to the coronation. His 
ideas were borrowed from scenes familiar to his hearers. 
The immense procession was marshalled. Then it moved 
toward the great temple to place the insignia of royalty 
upon the King of the universe. So vividly was all this 
depicted that those who listened thought they were gazing 
upon the long line of patriarchs, kings, prophets, apostles, 
martyrs, and confessors of every age and clime. They 
saw the great temple filled; and the grand and solemn act 
of coronation was about to be performed. By this time 
the congregation was wrought up to the highest pitch of 
excitement, and while expecting to hear the pealing anthem 
rise from the vast assembly upon which they seemed to 
gaze, the preacher lifted up his voice and sang: 


“All hail the power of Jesus’ name! 
Let angels prostrate fall; 
Bring forth the royal diadem, 
And crown Him Lord of all!” 


The effect was overwhelming. The crowd sprang to their 
feet, and sang the hymn with a feeling and a power which 
seemed to swell higher and higher at every verse. It was 
a jubilant multitude paying harmonious homage to their 
Sovereign Lord -and Savior. 

Rey. 8. W. CHRISTOPHERS, 


A faithful Christian, who was dying, turned to his daugh- 
ter who was bending over his bed and said, “Bring—” then 
his strength failed him. 

“What shall I bring, father?” said the girl. 


HYMNS. OF THE CHURCH 169 


“Bring—” said he, and paused again for lack of strength. 

The daughter, in an agony of desire to know her father’s 
last request, said, “Dear father, do try to tell me what you 
want; I will do anything for you.” 

The dying man rallied all his strength, and said, “Bring 
—forth—the—royal—diadem—A nd—crown—Him—Lord— 
of—all,” and then, as the last word passed from his lips, 
he ceased to breathe. 


No. 144. 


“COME TO JESUS, COME TO JESUS.” 


One Saturday night, during a Sunday school teacher’s 
meeting, a sudden rap was heard at the lecture-room door 
of a church in St. Louis. The pastor, Rev. Dr. McCook, 
was sent for in haste to see a little dying boy. He found 
it was at the home of a noted gambler. This man was on 
bended knees beside his child. Said he, “Pray for him. 
Do anything you can.” After prayer, the boy’s lips were 
observed to move. They found he was trying to say, “Sing! 
sing!” So Dr. McCook sang the words: 


“Come to Jesus, come to Jesus, 
Come to Jesus, just now, 
Just now, come to Jesus, 
Come to Jesus, just now.” 


As the words “just now” were being repeated, the boy would 
fix his dying eyes on his father and try to emphasize by 
saying as loudly as he could, “now, now, now,” whenever 
the word occurred in the hymn. Next morning, as the father 
stood on one side of the corpse and Dr. McCook ‘on the 
other, the latter re-echoed in the ears of the father, that 
emphatic “now” that so earnestly escaped from the pale 
lips that lay silent between them. That gambler opened 
his heart to the sound and became a devoted Christian. 
KE. M. Lone. 


170 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 146. 
“O DO NOT BE DISCOURAGED.” 


“One morning I had occasion to be in a Christian family 
at Norristown, Pennsyivania, which had keenly felt the 
pressure of hard times. They had gotten down to the 
scrapings of the barrel. They had nothing left for break- 
fast but the crumbs of other days. These were all gathered 
on one plate and placed in the centre of the table. All 
the family gathered around the scanty meal except two 
little boys, who were absorbed with their playthings in one 
corner of the room. After the father had given thanks, 
tears rolled down the cheeks as their eyes gazed upon the 
empty plates. During the sad silence that followed, the 
two boys dropped their toys, arose to their feet, and as if 
led by angel hands, marched forward to the table and sang: 


‘O do not be discouraged 

For Jesus is your friend; 

He will give you grace to conquer, 
And keep you to the end.’ 


Tears fled as dewdrops before the rising sun. An unexpected 
Providence brought relief, and never since have tear drops 
fallen on empty dishes.” 

Rev. E. M. Lone. 


No. 146. 
“FROM EVERY STORMY WIND THAT BLOWS.” 


Rev. HueuH SToweE.u, 1799—1865. 


When the flames seized the house of worship of the First 
Baptist Church, in the Great Chicago fire, brethren who 
had labored hard to save it, said one to another, “Our 
house must go, but let us have one more prayer within its 


a i a 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 171 


walls.” And they bowed before God in the face of the 
coming flames, while one who had been wont to lead in the 
fire and thunder of battle led the cry of these faithful 
heroes before the mercy seat. Then, rising to their feet, 
they sang as they retreated: 


“From every stormy wind that blows, 
From every swelling tide of woes, 
There is a calm, a sure retreat; 

’Tis found beneath the mercy seat.” 


No. 147. 
“DAUGHTER OF ZION! FROM THE DUST.” 


JAMES Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


The pastor of the New England Congregational Church 
of Chicago relates that at the time after the fire, when 
they were most afflicted by the loss of their edifice, a 
singular circumstance became known, which greatly cheered 
and encouraged them to put forth the most strenuous efforts 
to rebuild. It seems that among the ruins of their church 
were found two bits of paper, one of which proved to be 
the only remaining fragment of a Bible, and the only 
legible portion was this verse, from II Corinthians 5:1— 
“For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle 
were dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not 
made with hands eternal in the heavens.” The other was 
a scrap from the hymn book, upon which were these words 
of the hymn: 


“Daughter of Zion! from the dust 
Exalt thy fallen head; 
Again in thy Redeemer trust; 
He calls thee from the dead. 


172 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Awake, awake, put on thy strength, 
Thy beautiful array; 
The day of freedom dawns at length, 
The Lord’s appointed day. 


“Rebuild thy wells, thy bounds enlarge, 
And send thy heralds forth:” 


No. 148. 
“COME, HUMBLE SINNER, IN WHOSE BREAST.” 


Rev. EpMunp JoNEs, 1772—1765. 


Rev. Henry Ward Beecher says, “I remember once hear- 
ing a sermon preached by Mr. Nettleton, under which I 
shivered and quivered like an aspen leaf; I remember going 
away and trying to pray, and waiting for a change to come 
which should translate me; and I remember taking this 
hymn, and singing, and singing, and singing it, and finding 
it a great comfort, though it did not bring me through. It 
may seem very little to you; but I tell you that hymn was 
like the day of judgment to me, so full of anguish was I.” 


No. 149. 
“Q’ER THOSE GLOOMY HILLS OF DARKNESS.” 


Rey. Wiuu1am WituiAMs, 1717—1791. 


A negro woman in Jamaica was very fond of singing 
this hymn at missionary meetings, and sang it with great 
fervor. But whenever the plates went around for contribu- 
tions she always sang with her eyes on the ceiling. On 
one occasion, however, the plate reached her just as she 
was singing with great earnestness, and with eyes as usual 
on the ceiling: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 173 


“Fly abroad, eternal gospel, 
Win and conquer, never cease”; 


The colored brother who carried the plate, had apparently 
had experience with this sort of singing, and so he touched 
the good sister with the plate and said, “Sissy, it’s no use 
for to sing ‘Fly abroad’ with your eyes on the ceiling; it’s 
no use for you to sing ‘fly’ at all, unless you give something 
to make it fly.” 


No. 150. 
“WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


In a church in London, this hymn was sung after a 
collection had been taken. When it ended, the preacher 
slowly repeated the verse: 


“Were the whole realm of nature mine, 

That were a present far too small; 
Love so amazing, so divine, 

Demands my soul, my life, my all.” 


And then added, “Well, I am surprised to hear you sing 
that, for do you know that altogether you have only put 
fifteen shillings into the plate this morning?” 


No. 181. 


“COME HOLY SPIRIT, HEAVENLY DOVE.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Rev. R. V. Lawrence relates the following incident as 
occurring in New Jersey: “A minister was called to take 
charge of a congregation that his predecessor had left in 


174 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


a state of revival, with hearts all aglow with the heavenly 
fire. At the first prayer meeting service he began to read 
the hymn: 


‘Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
With all Thy quickening powers; 
Kindle a flame of sacred love 
In these cold hearts of ours.’ 


As he read the last two lines, a brother called out, ‘Dear 
pastor, that hymn does not suit us. Our hearts are not 
“cold” 

As the preacher still proceeded to read the next verse: 


‘Look how we grovel here below 
Fond of these earthly toys; 
Our souls can neither fly nor go, 

To reach eternal joys.’ 


another brother responded, ‘We can “fly” and “go” and 
“reach eternal joys.” The confused pastor, however, per- 
sisted in reading the third verse: 


‘In vain we tune our formal songs, 
In vain we strive to rise; 

Hosannas languish on our tongues, 
And our devotion dies.’ 


When being told again that their songs were not ‘formal,’ 
that their ‘hosannas’ did not ‘languish,’ he closed by saying, 
‘Well, that’s my condition, if it is not yours.’ And asked 
the prayers of the warm-hearted brethren on his behalf.” 


A young man, who had been the leader in gaiety among 
the middle ranks of the place in which he dwelt, went to 
a Scripture reading at the persuasion of a friend; and the 
Word of God went like an arrow to his heart. To stifle his 
convictions, he went to a neighboring public house, where 
several young men spent their evenings in revelry. His 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 175 


talent for singing made him doubly welcome amongst them. 
In the midst of singing a song, the words vanished from 
his mind; he tried in vain to recall them; the only lines 
he could remember were these: 


“Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 

With all Thy quickening powers; 

Come, shed abroad a Savior’s love, 
And that shall kindle ours.” 


He left the house deeply wounded in spirit, his pride hum- 
bled; and, seeking earnestly for pardon till he found it, he 
spent the rest of his life in the service of God. 


No. 152. 
“JESUS! THE NAME HIGH OVER ALL.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


In a narrow alley in Boston, noted for its poverty and 
haunts of vice, a young gas-fitter was sent one winter eve- 
ning in 1873, to repair a gas pipe. Near by was the North 
End Mission Chapel, surrounded by dance halls and tip- 
pling shops. The alley was very foggy and still, and the 
music of harps and fiddles seemed to echo in strange con- 
trast with the inspiring strains of “Coronation” and other 
familiar tunes that issued from the house of God. The 
young gas-fitter was weary and paused at times in this extra 
work to listen to the commingling of musical sounds. At 
last there was a loud outburst of song in the chapel. 
Through the crisp evening air echoed the words of Wesley’s 
hymn: 

“Jesus; the name high over all, 
In hell, or earth, or sky; 

Angels and men before it fall, 
And devils fear and fly.” 


176 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


He listened to the singing of three stanzas heartily sung, 
but could not distinguish the words. The music affected 
him strangely. There was something in the tinkling sound, 
coming out of the beer rooms that told him of the emptiness 
of earth’s follies. “I wish I was a true Christian,” said 
the young man, as he resumed his work in the basement. 
'As the bell was striking nine he again paused and went 
to the basement window and listened. The chapel seemed 
silent, but there was a mingling of people, and a murmuring 
of voices out on the street, and the tinkling of instruments 
in the dance halls still went on. He stood thinking, and 
the old thoughts returned with greater force, that there 
was no hope or promise in any pursuits or pleasures which 
were destitute of God. The music and the sounds of laughter 
seemed a mockery. He again said, as he was about to 
resume his work, “I would like to be a Christian.” Some- 
thing detained him a moment more at the window. A low 
bent form flitted through the misty ring of light at the head 
of the alley, and approached with a pattering step in the 
deep shadows. It was an old woman returning from the 
chapel. She was singing. It was the hymn which he had 
imperfectly heard. He waited for the refrain: 


“Jesus, the Name high over all, 
In hell, or earth, or sky; 
Angels and men before it fall, 
And devils fear and fly. 

O how I love Jesus, 

O how I love Jesus, 

O how I love Jesus, 
Because He first loved me.” 


The old woman passed on and disappeared through one 
of the dark doors at the foot of the alley. She knew not 
the sermon her song had preached. Then and there the 
young man saw what he wanted to make him happy—what 
the world wants to make it happy—the love of Jesus. On 
the following day he arose in the Young Men’s Christian 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 177 


Association rooms, related the above story, and asked their 
prayers. 


No. 153. 
“HOW HAPPY EVERY CHILD OF GRACE.” 


Rev. CHartes Wesuey, 1708—1788. 


About the year 1854, the unusual scene of a court room 
in tears was witnessed in Exeter Castle, England. A good 
woman had been set upon by a villain on her way from the 
Sunday school and was left for dead by the roadside. On 
being discovered, she was restored to consciousness so far 
as to identify the perpetrator of the crime; and then she 
died, singing this triumphant anthem of hope: 


“How happy every child of grace, 
Who knows his sins forgiven! 

‘This earth,’ he cries, ‘is not my place; 
I seek my place in heaven; 


“<A country far from mortal sight; 
Yet O, by faith I see 
The land of rest, the saints’ delight, 
The heaven prepared for me. 


““To that Jerusalem above 
With singing I repair; 
While in the flesh, my hope and love, 
My heart and soul are there.’ ” 


The counsel for the prosecution at the murderer’s trial, 
in his appeal to the jury, described the death scene and re- 
hearsed the hymn, a part of which the dying girl sang on her 
upward flight. The jury, all but the prisoner, wept. Who 
could help it? To hear in that solemn court, the youthful 
martyr’s song of glory! And such a song! 


178 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 154. 
“JESUS, KEEP ME NEAR THE CROSS.” 


Mrs. FANNY JANE VAN ALSTYNE: 


A small boy was run over by a car on the Third Avenue 
line in New York, and taken to a hosptial. A few moments 
before his death he said, “May I sing?” After clasping 
his little hands and saying the Lord’s prayer, he broke 
out in singing the hymn: 


“Jesus, keep me near the cross, 
There a precious fountain, 

Free to all—a healing stream, 
Flows from Cavalry’s mountain.” 


His voice gradually grew weaker as he sang: 


“Near the cross I’ll watch and wait, 
Hoping, trusting ever, 
Till I reach the golden strand, 
Just beyond the river.” 


And with these words he crossed the river. 


No. 155. 
“SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.” 


Mrs. FANNY JANE VAN ALYSTYNE. 


One summer evening the author of this hymn was present 
at a meeting in the Water Street Mission in New York 
when a number of sailors were present. One of their 
number arose and said that for many years he had lived 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 179 


far from God a reckless life, until strolling along the streets 
the first Sunday after his vessel had come into port, he 
happened to hear music proceeding from that building. He 
stopped and listened and was induced to enter while they 
were singing: 


“Safe in the arms of Jesus.” 


It so stirred his soul that he rested not till he was “safe 
in the arms of Jesus” himself. 


No. 156. 
“DEAR CHRISTIAN PEOPLE, NOW REJOICE.” 


Rev. Martin LuTHEr. 


Martin Luther knew the power of song. Hymns could 
go where neither he nor his brother preachers could go, and 
so he began at the very outset of his work to embody his 
doctrines in song. This is the second hymn he wrote— 
his version of the forty-sixth Psalm being the first—and 
this is almost a complete epitome of his doctrine of salva- 
tion through faith in Christ. It flew all over Germany 
as if the very winds carried it, and with it went the great 
doctrine of the Reformation. “The whole people,” wrote 
a Romish priest, “is singing itself into this Lutheran doc- 
trine.” A number of princes who had adopted the Lutheran 
faith were together at Frankfort soon after this hymn was 
written, and wished to have an evangelical service in one 
of the churches. A large congregation assembled, but the 
pulpit was occupied by a Roman Catholic priest, who 
proceeded to preach according to his own views. After 
listening for some time in indignant silence, the whole con- 
gregation arose and began singing this hymn, till they fairly 
sang the priest out of the church. 

Miss CATHERINE WINKWORTH. 


180 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 1857. 


“AS I GLAD BID ADIEU TO THE WORLD’S FANCIED 
PLEASURE.” 


A young gentleman, tenderly attached to a young lady, 
was obliged to take a journey. During his absence she 
became a follower of Christ. He heard of the change and 
wrote her a letter full of invectives against religion and 
its gloomy professions. Having a good voice and playing 
well on the piano, she had been accustomed to entertain him 
with her music, especially in performing one song, of which 
he was very fond, the refrain of which was, “Ah, never! 
ah, no.” At their first interview after his return, he taunt- 
ingly said, “I suppose you cannot sing me a song now?” 
“Oh, yes,” was her response, “and I will;” and, proceeding 
to her piano, she sang a hymn she had composed to his 
favorite tune: 


“As I glad bid adieu to the World’s fancied pleasure, 
You pity my weakness; alas! did you know 
The joys of religion, that best hidden treasure, 
Would you bid me resign them? Ah, never! Ah, no! 


“You will surely rejoice when I say I’ve received 
The only true pleasure attained here below. 
I know by experience in whom I’ve believed: 
Shall I give up this treasure? Ah, never! Ah, no! 


“In the gay scenes of life I was happiness wooing; 
But ah! in her stead I encountered a woe, 
And found I was only a phantom pursuing; 

Never once did I find her. Ah, never! Ah, no! 


“But in these bright paths which you call melancholy, 
I’ve found those delights which the world does not 
know. 
Oh, did you partake them, you’d then see your folly, 
Nor again bid me fly them. Ah, never! Ah, no! 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 181 


By hearing these lines, his prejudices gave way, his feet 
entered the narrow path, and they became a truly happy 
pair. 

Dr. BELCHER. 


No. 158. 
“LORD OF HEAVEN! LONE AND SAD.” 


On a cold dark night, when the wind was blowing hard, 
Conrad, a worthy citizen of a little town in Germany, sat. 
playing with his flute, while Ursula, his wife, was prepar- 
ing supper. They heard a sweet voice singing outside: 


“Foxes to their holes have gone, 
Every bird into its nest; 
But I wander here alone, 
And for me there is no rest.” 


Tears filled the good man’s eyes as he said, “What a 
pity it should be spoiled by being tried in such weather. 
I think it is the voice of a child.” 

“Let us open the door and see,” said his wife, who had 
lost a little boy not long before, and whose heart was 
opened to take pity on the little wanderer. 

Conrad opened the door and saw a ragged child who 
said: “Charity, good sir, for Christ’s sake.” 

“Come in, my little one,” said he, “you shall rest with 
me for the night.” 

The boy said, “Thank God,” and entered. The heat of 
the room made him faint, but Ursula’s kind care soon re- 
stored him. They gave him some supper, and then he told 
them that he was the son of a poor miner and wanted to 
be a priest. He wandered about and sang and lived on the 
money people gave him. His kind friends would not let 
him talk much, but sent him to bed. When he was asleep 
they looked in upon him, and were so pleased with his 


182 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


pleasant countenance that they determined to keep him if 
he was willing. In the morning they found that he was only 
too glad to remain. They sent him to school, and afterward 
he entered the monastery. There he found the Bible, which 
he read’ and from which he learned the way of life. The 
little voice of the little singer became the strong echo of the 
good news, “Justified by faith, we have peace with God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Conrad and Ursula, when 
they took that little singer into their house, little thought 
that they were nourishing the great champion of the Refor- 
mation. The poor child was Martin Luther! The following 
is the whole of the song which Luther sang on that mem- 
orable night: 


“Lord of heaven, lone and sad, 
I would lift my soul to Thee; 
Pilgrim in a foreign land, 
Gracious Father, look on me. 
I shall neither faint nor die 
While I walk beneath Thine Eye. 


“T will stay my faith on Thee, 
And will never fear to tread 
Where the Saviour-Master leads; 
He will give me daily bread. 
Christ was hungry, Christ was poor, 
He will feed me from His store. 


“Foxes to their holes have gone, 
Every bird into its nest; 
But I wander here alone, 
And for me there is no rest; 
Yet I neither faint nor fear, 
For the Saviour-Christ is near. 


“Tf I live He’ll be near me, 
If I die to Him I go; 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 183 


He’ll not leave me, I will trust Him, 
And my heart no fear shall know. 
Sin and sorrow I defy, 
For on Jesus I rely.” 
Home Words. 


No. 159. 
“MUST JESUS BEAR THE CROSS ALONE?” 


In one of the Armenian schools (for there are.some schools 
among the Armenians; and they have had more since the 
missionary work began among them than before) it became 
noised among them that there were some Protestants. Protes, 
as they are called, in the school; but the teacher did not 
want any such element there ; and he said, “If there are any 
boys here who are Protes, let them come upon the floor.” 

He did not suppose any one would arise; but four or five 
boys from ten to twelve years of age marched “out upon the 
floor, declaring themselves Protes. He was a good deal con- 
Peed “Hardly knowing what to say, he turned to the boys 
and said, “Do you believe in the Church?” 

“Yes, ” they replied, “but we believe in the Bible more.’ 

Then The turned to the school and said, ‘““What shall we do 
to these boys for refusing to obey the Church?” 2 3 

For a moment there was a pause. At last, one said, “Let 

us spit in their faces.” So the teacher, thinking that a fine 
suggestion, called on the school to pass before the boys and 
each one to spit in their faces. They filed by, each one 
spitting as they passed along. Then feeling that they had 
triumphed over the boys, the teacher turned to the school 
and said, “Let us sing.” And they’sang a patriotic song! 
The boys stood silent, and did not sing; and the teacher 
turned to them and said, “Why do you not sing?” 

They said, “We will, if you will sing a spiritual song.” 

Said he, “You may sing anything you wish to.” And 
they sang these words: ~ 


184 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Must Jesus bear the cross alone, 
‘And all the world go free? 

- No, there’s a cross for every one, 
And there’s a cross for me. 


“The consecrated cross I’ll bear, 
Till death shall set. me free; 
And then go home my crown to wear, 
For there’s a crown for me.” 


% This incident was related at Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, 


H 
i 
\ 


New York, by Rev. Mr. Parmelee, missionary among the 


\ Armenians. 


ALL GLORY, LAUD, AND HONOR.” 


THEODULPH. 


It was on a Palm Sunday, about seven hundred and fifty 
years after the midnight song of Paul and Silas at Philippi, 
that the Emperor Louis, “the debonnaire” and his court, 
were on their way to the cathedral at Metz, in full pro- 
cession, when, passing a dungeon, there issued from the 
prison bars a hymn, which as translated by Dr. Neale 
began: 

“All glory, laud and honor 
To Thee, Redeemer, King! 
To Whom the lips of children 
Made sweet hosannas ring.” 


The author was a prisoner behind those bars, and was sing- 
ing the hymn he had written. The Emperor was so touched 


—~ 


by the hymn, that he ordered the captive Bishop to be at 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 185 


once liberated, and directed that the hymn should be made 
the processional hymn for Palm Sunday. And so the hymn 
of praise, written behind prison bars, became a hymn of 
deliverance to the one who wrote it. 


No. 161. 
“COME, LET US ANEW OUR JOURNEY PURSUE.” 


Rey. CHartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


A little girl, belonging to the Scotch Church, was per- 
mitted by her father to go to the watch night service of the 
Methodists in Aberdeen, on condition that she remember 
the text, and repeat it on her return home. At the end 
of the service the accustomed hymn was sung: 


“Come, let us anew our journey pursue, 
Roll round with the year,” etc. 


This was to her a novelty, and so fixed in the child’s mind 
a love towards Methodism, that she ultimately became a 
member of that Society, and the wife of one of their minis- 
ters. The text failed to influence her mind seriously, but 
the last hymn did so effectually. 

G. J. STEVENSON. 


No. 162. 
“BLEST BE THE DEAR UNITING LOVE.” 


Rev. Cuartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


John B. Gough records an incident of the use of the 
hymn of which this is the first line. He says: “I was twelve 
years of age, and my father being unable to furnish the 
premium necessary to my. learning a trade, and having no 


186 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


prospect for me other than to be a gentleman’s servant, 
made an agreement with a family of our village, who were 
about to emigrate to America, that they, in considera- 
tion of ten guineas paid by him, should take me with them, 
teach me a trade, and provide for me until I was twenty- 
one years of age. After much hesitation, my mother, from 
a sense of duty, yielded to this arrangement. I, boy-like, 
felt in high glee at the prospect before me. My little 
arrangements having been completed, on the fourth of June, 
1829, I took, as I then supposed, a last view of my native 
village. The evening I was about to depart, a neighbor 
invited me to take tea at her house, which I accepted. My 
mother remarked to me afterwards, ‘I wish you had taken 
tea with your mother, John’; and this little circumstance 
was a source of much pain to me in after years. The part- 
ing from my beloved parents was bitter. My poor mother 
folded me to her bosom; then she would hold me off at arm’s 
length, and gaze fondly on my face, through her tearful eyes, 
reading, as only a mother could, the book of futurity to me. 
She hung up, on the accustomed peg, my old cap and jacket, 
and my school bag, and there they remained until years 
after she quitted the house. At length the parting words 
were spoken, and I left the home of my childhood, perhaps 
forever. A touching scene it was, as I went through the 
village toward the coach office that evening. As I passed 
through the streets, many a kind hand waved a farewell, 
and not a few familiar voices sounded out a hearty ‘God 
bless you.’ On the tenth of June, everything being arranged, 
we sailed from the Thames in the ship Helen. Passing 
Dover, we arrived off Sandgate, when it fell a dead calm, 
and the ship’s anchors were dropped. I afforded some 
amusement to those around me by the eagerness with which 
I seized a telescope, and the positiveness with which I 
averred that I saw my old home. During that day, boat 
after boat came off to us from the shore, and friends of the 
family I was with, paid them visits; but I was unnoticed; 
my relatives did not come. After long and weary watching, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 187 


I saw a man standing up in a boat, with a white band round 
his hat. - ‘That’s he! That’s my father!’ I shouted. He 
soon got on deck and almost smothered me with his kisses— 
from which I somewhat shrank, as his beard made very 
decided impressions on my smocth skin. I heard that my 
mother and sister had gone to a place of worship, at some 
distance from Sandgate, which I regretted much. When 
evening came on, our visitors from the shore repaired to 
their boats, which, when a few yards from the ship, formed 
in a half circle. Our friends stood up in them, and o’er the 
calm waters floated our blended voices, as we sang: 


‘Blest be the dear uniting love, 
That will not let us part: 
Our bodies may far off remove, 
We still are one in heart.’ 


Boat after boat then vanished in the gloomy distance, and 
I went to bed. About midnight I heard my name called, 
and going on deck I there found my beloved mother and. 
sister, who hearing on their return that I was in the offing, 
had paid half a guinea (money hard earned and with 
difficulty procured, yet cheerfully expended on a boatman 
to row them to the ship. They spent an hour with me and 
oh, how short it seemed!) then departed with many tears.” 


No. 163. 
“COME, LET US JOIN OUR CHEERFUL SONGS.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


A sailor, at the approach of death, was aroused at the 
prospect before him. He was ill, had no Bible, nor even 
the power to read one. In his mental darkness, he remem- 
bered two verses of Watts’s hymn commencing as above. 
Even his recollection was imperiect, but as he repeated to 
himself the line: 


188 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Worthy the Lamb That died,’ they cry, 
To be exalted thus.’ ” 


the next ones flashed upon his memory, 


“Worthy the Lamb!’ our hearts reply, 
‘For He was slain for us.’ ” 


This phrase, “slain for us,” gave him a glimpse of the way 
of salvation, revived old lessons received in the Sunday 
school, and brought him at last to pardon and peace. 


It is related of Rev. Paxton Hood, that once when he 
had engaged to preach at a strange chapel, as he entered 
the pulpit, the deacon who announced the hymn was just 
giving out the lines: 


“My thoughts on awful subjects roll, 
Damnation and the dead.” 


when Mr. Hood started up and in his shrillest tones ex- 
claimed: “Stop! Stop! My thoughts do not roll on any 
such subject. 


“Come, let us join our cheerful songs, 
With angels round the throne, 
: Ten thousand, thousand, are their tongues, 
But all their joys are one.’ ” 


No. 164. 


“GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY.” 


WILLIAM CowPeERr. 


A business man entered the Fulton Street Prayer Meeting 
one day, heavily burdened and sadly cast down. He had 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 189 


hardly taken his seat, when the leader called for two verses 
of the hymn commencing as above. The meeting sang the 
verses: 


“God moves in a mysterious way, 
His wonders to perform; 

He plants His footsteps in the sea, 
And rides upon the storm. 


“Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
But trust Him for His grace; 
Behind a frowning providence 
He hides a smiling face.” 


The man felt that he was certainly walking beneath a 
frowning providence, but he had not felt assured of the 
smiling face beyond. The song cheered his heart, however, 
and strengthened his faith. He went away determined to 
look for the smiling face and soon it appeared to him, from 
out of the cloud; God helped him. 

Dr. PRIME. 


The late Rev. Hugh Stowell, of Manchester, England, 
relates an incident concerning this hymn: “One of the Lan- 
cashire mill-owners, who had struggled hard and long to 
keep his hands employed during the cotton famine arising 
from the American war, in 1865, at last found it impossible 
to proceed; and calling his work people together, told them 
that he should be compelled, after the usual notice to close 
his mills. The news was received with sadness and sympa- 
thy; to them it meant privation and suffering, to him it 
might be ruin. None cared to speak in reply; when sud- 
denly arose the voice of song from one of the girls, who 
was a Sunday-school teacher; she, feeling it to be an occa- 
sion requiring Divine help and guidance, gave out the verse 
of Cowper’s hymn: 


190 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘Ye fearful saints fresh courage take; 
The clouds ye so much dread 

Are big with mercy, and shall break 
In blessings on your head.’ 


All the mill-hands joined in singing the verse amidst deep 
emotion, sympathy and tears.” 


No. 165. 
“LORD I HEAR OF SHOWERS OF BLESSING.” 


Mrs. EvizABETH COoDNER. 


The singing leader in an American Sunday school, was a 
man of skeptical tendencies—moral and upright, though far 
from being a Christian. One Sunday, this hymn was com- 
menced as usual, but when the leader came to the passage: 


“Pass me not, O gracious Saviour, 
Let me live and cling to Thee”; 


his voice quivered, his frame shook, and in anguish he cried 
out, “Pray for me!” It was a scene of thrilling interest, 
and earnest prayers then went up from teachers and 
scholars, that he who had so long sung the sweet songs of 
Zion without feeling their power, might now sing with the 
spirit and the understanding also. He was happily con- 
verted and is now a faithful Christian. 


No. 166. 
“QO WHERE SHALL REST BE FOUND?” 


JAMES MontcoMery, 1771—1854. 


In the Fulton Street, New York, Prayer Meeting, a young 
man said that he had gone the downward road until he was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 191 


sick of sin, and of himself. He resolved to do away with 
himself, and stood at the edge of the wharf, pistol in hand, 
ready to shoot himself, and then to tumble over into the 
water. Just then, there flashed across his mind the words: 


“°Tis not the whole of life to live, 
Nor all of death to die.” 


The words served to stay him in his mad purpose, and from 
that hour he began to seek a better way, and soon found 
the way of life. 

Sabbath Reading, January, 1886. 


No. 167. 
“HOW CAN I SINK WITH SUCH A PROP?” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


The leader of the Fulton Street, New York, Prayer Meet- 
ing, one noon said that he was present for the last time. 
He was about to seek a permanent home in Kansas. He 
had often been in the meeting before, but upon one occasion 
his attendance was fraught with eternal results. He came 
in a helpless, hopeless, lost man. He had been a sad slave 
to dissipation. Friends had long since ceased to indulge the 
hope of his improvement, and he just felt that he was sink- 
ing into ruin, here and hereafter. He sat near the leader’s 
desk, despondent—aye, despairing. Who could help him? 
He could not sink much lower on earth, but with no one to 
pity and no one to save, he must soon sink into the hell, 
that seemed greedily gaping to receive him. Never more 
miserable, just then his ear was arrested by the words of a 
verse of a hymn, called for by the friend in the chair: 


“How can I sink with such a prop 
As my eternal God?” 


192 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


These were all the words he caught, but they set him to 
thinking—thinking that possibly the Lord had led him to 
the meeting, and that there was yet hope’for him. Next 
day he presented his request for prayer, and ere long was 
rejoicing in Christ as his Savior. 


No. 168. 
“VAIN, DELUSIVE WORLD ADIEU.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


In the year 1783, it was announced at Rood, a little 
country village in England, that “the boy preacher” was to 
preach, and all the young men and women resolved to hear 
him. They crowded the preaching room, and listened to the 
sermon with profound attention; the place was still as death. 
At the close of the sermon the preacher gave out the hymn: 


“Vain, delusive world adieu, 
With all of creature good! 
Only Jesus I pursue, 
Who bought me with His Blood: 


“All the pleasures I forego; 
I trample on thy wealth and pride; 
Only Jesus will I know, 
And Jesus crucified.” 


The fine voices of the young people produced a solemn 
effect; the last two lines were repeated at every verse, and 
at the end all those present were deeply moved. The young 
preacher paused, spoke of the delightful effect of the singing, 
but arrested their attention by an earnest appeal to follow 
out the teaching of the hymn by taking up their baptismal 
vows and yielding their hearts to God that day. The appeal 
was so earnest, so affectionate, that thirteen young persons 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 193 


that night and at the prayer meeting early next morning 
gave their hearts to God. The preacher was Dr. Adam 
Clarke, and fifty years after, one of those young persons 
called on him, and reminded him of the hymn sung and 
preached that day at Rood. 


No. 169. 
“COMMIT THOU ALL THY GRIEFS.” 


Rey. Paut GEeRHARDT, 1606—1676. 


In a little village near Warsaw there used to stand a 
house, and over the door an iron tablet on which was carved 
a raven with a ring in its beak and underneath one stanza 
of this hymn: 


“Thou everywhere hast sway 
And all things serve Thy might! 
Thy every act pure blessing is, 
Thy path unsullied light.” 


How came it there? There lived in that village a pious 
German peasant whose name was Dobry. He had fallen 
far in arrears with his rent and the landlord threatened to 
evict him. It was winter. All his entreaties for longer time 
had been in vain and next day his family would be turned 
out into the snow. The church bell called to evening prayer 
and Dobry kneeled among the rest. They sang this hymn: 


“Commit thou all thy griefs 
And ways into his hands,” 


and as they sang something made a noise upon the window 
close by where Dobry knelt. Opening the window he found 
a raven which his grandfather had tamed and set at liberty. 
In its bill was a finger ring set with precious stones. -Dobry 
took it from the bird and it was found to have been one lost 


194 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


by the King. It was taken to him and he rewarded Dobry 
so that he had no need and built for him a house of his own 
and to commemorate the wonderful occurrence of that 
wintry night this iron plate was put over its door with its 
raven and its ring and its song engraved upon it. 


No. 170. 
“Q HAPPY DAY THAT FIXED MY CHOICE.” 


Rev. Puinie Doppringr, 1702—1751. 


The late Duncan Mathieson has related that on one of 
his evangelistic visits to Dundee, at the fair held there, he 
was preaching in the street, when two young women stopped 
to hear the singing, which began with: 


“QO happy day that fixed my choice 
On Thee, my Saviour and my God! 

Well may this glowing heart rejoice, 
And tell its raptures all abroad.” 


Said one of the girls to the other, “Come away, we shall be 
too late for the fair.” 

The Spirit of God had already arrested the attention of 
the other girl, with the words “happy day” and she replied, 
“T dare not gang.” The flighty one fled in haste and was 
not saved; the other remained, and that day gave her heart 
to God. 


NOS 
“COME WE WHO LOVE THE LORD.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


Rev. Andrew Kinsman met a young clergyman with Rev. 
George Whitefield, at the Tabernacle house, just before 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 195 


Whitefield’s departure for America. There was after dinner 
a tremendous storm of thunder and lightning. Mr. Kins- 
man, supposing the clergyman “to be a serious person,” put 
his hand on his shoulder, and quoted a stanza of this hymn, 
which is not in our later collections: 


“The God that reigns on high, 
And thunders when He please, 

That rides upon the stormy sky 
And manages the seas.” 


ending with the next stanza 


“This awful God is ours, 
Our Father and our Love.” 


It resulted in the conversion of his companion. 


No. 172. 
“MIGHTY GOD! WHILE ANGELS BLESS THEE.” 


Rev. Ropert Rosprnson, 1735—1790. 


Robert Robinson was a poor boy, too poor to get the 
education for the Church that his mother wanted him to 
have; so at fourteen years of age he was apprenticed to a 
barber in London, who often had to find fault with him for 
paying more attention to his book than to his work. When 
seventeen, he went with some companions one Sunday for a 
holiday. They found an old fortune teller and made her 
drink to hear her maudlin talk. She predicted for Robinson 
that he would see his children and his children’s children. 
_ This struck his quick mind and he determined to store his 
memory with things that might interest his family in later 
_ years. To make a beginning he went to hear George White- 


196 — STORIES OF THE GREAT 


field preach that night. Whitefield was preaching on 
Matthew 3:7, and his words produced such an impression 
on young Robinson that he found little comfort until nearly 
three years later he became a Christian. Three years later 
he began to preach, and afterward became a Baptist. He 
was quite eccentric and was by turn a Wesleyan, Indepen- 
dent and Baptist, and at last a Unitarian. One day a little 
boy was sitting on Mr. Robinson’s knee, and while sitting 
. there, Mr. Robinson wrote a hymn for the little boy, and 
after reading it to him placed it in his hand for him to call 
his own. It began: 


“Mighty God, while angels bless Thee, 
May an infant lisp Thy Name.” 


It was set to music by Dr. Randall. 


No. 178. 
“COME, THOU FOUNT OF EVERY BLESSING.” 


Rev. Ropert Ropinson, 1735—1790. 


In the latter part of the author’s life he seemed to have 
lost much of his piety and often indulged in a levity not 
befitting his profession. He was once traveling in a stage 
coach with a lady, who soon perceived that he was familiar 
with religious subjects, although she had no suspicion as to 
who he was. She had just been reading this hymn, and she 
asked his opinion of it. He tried to waive the question and 
to turn the conversation into other channels, but she told 
how much and how often she had been helped by the hymn, 
and pressed him for his opinion of it, until at last he burst 
into tears and exclaimed, “Madam, I am the poor unhappy 
man who composed that hymn many years ago, and I would 
give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings 
I then had.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 197 
No. 174. 
“AWAKE, MY SOUL, TO MEET THE DAY.” 


Rev. Puitie Dopprincr, 1702—1751. 


The author gave to this hymn the title “A Morning Hymn 
to be Used at Awaking and Arising,” and this was the pur- 
pose for which he himself used it. It was his habit to arise 
at five o’clock in the morning winter and summer, and his 
first act was to sing this hymn. Indeed tradition says that 
he began the singing while still in bed, and that when he 
reached the line “As, rising now I seal my vows,” which was 
in the sixth stanza, he sprang out of bed. 


No. 175. 
“THINE EARTHLY SABBATH, LORD, WE LOVE.”—1736. 


_ Rev. Puiwire Dopprivce, 1702—1751. 
(See No. 34 for custom of writing hymns for sermons.) 


This hymn was written to be used at the end of a sermon 
preached January 2, 1736, from the text, ‘““There remaineth 
therefore a rest to the people of God.” Hebrews, 4:9. 


Dr. Gardiner Spring, of New York, wrote in his diary 
under date of May 25, 1851. He had been under some 
affliction and says that until that day he had not opened 
his piano to sing, since it occurred. Then he wrote, “I felt 
that while all God’s works praise Him, my voice also should 
be vocal with His praise. How beautiful is this green earth 
on a Sabbath day! I could only give utterance to the 
words: 

“<Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love, 
But there’s a nobler rest above.’ ” 


198 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


I remember one delightful Sabbath in the home of Dr. 
C. L. Goodell. We gathered in the morning and sang the 
hymn: 

“Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love, 
But there’s a nobler rest above.” 


The doctor said, “We have sung this hymn every Sabbath 
morning for eighteen years. On the sea, in foreign lands, 
at home; we have never omitted it when together.” The 
sentiment of the hymn pervaded the home life that day. It 
went with us to the house of God, where it seemed to give 
- power to prayer and praise, and to wing with love the spoken 
truth. It was present in the little group of friends at the 
evening meal: and when the day closed, which had been 
filled with loving ministries, its memory remained in the 
household like a benediction.” 


Rev. A. E. Duniya, D.D., in Congregationalist, 
January 3, 189—. 


No. 176. 
“JERUSALEM, THE GLORIOUS.” 


Bernarp or Ciuny; Twelfth Century. 


A small part of a Latin poem of three thousand lines, 
written by Bernard, a monk of Cluny in France. Five or 
six hymns in common use among us are taken from this 
poem. It is curious that about the time when St. Bernard 
was abbot of the Monastery of Cluny, monks from that 
place were sent over to England to occupy a priory just 
built at Castleacre, in Norfolk. So that the hymns of their 
leader, which within the last thirty years we are just learn- 
ing to sing again, were no doubt sung in a few English 
churches seven hundred years ago. Would you like to know 
something of this old Catholic monk who lived in the forest 
of France eight hundred years ago? Here is a glimpse of 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 199 


him. He would be walking with his brother monks in the 
cloisters or the garden, when sometimes he would stop and 
say, “My brothers, I must go! there is some one waiting for 
me in my cell.” That some one was Jesus, and he would 
leave his companions among the flowers while he went to 
meet Him and talk with Him in his cell. 


No. 177. 
“MY DAYS ARE GLIDING SWIFTLY BY.” 
Rev. Davi Nexson, 1793—1844. 


The author of this hymn owned and operated a plantation 
in Missouri, on which negro slaves were employed. After 
listening to an address on slavery he declared, “I will live 
on roast potatoes and salt before I will hold slaves.” He 
became an ardent advocate of the plan of colonizing the 
slaves in Africa, and called a meeting to discuss the subject 
at the close of a camp-meeting service. By this he incurred 
the displeasure of the slave-holders, and was driven from 
his home by a band of armed men. After three days and 
nights of wandering, he at last reached the Mississippi River 
opposite Quincy, Illinois, and was able to make known his 
condition to friends in that city. Hiding there in the bushes, 
with enemies behind and the river gliding swiftly by before, 
and on its other shore the soil of a free state where were 
friends and safety, he wrote on the backs of old letters he 
had in his pockets, the words of this hymn: 


“My days are gliding swiftly by, 
And I, a pilgrim stranger 

Would not detain them as they fly, 
These hours of toil and danger. 


“For, oh, we stand on Jordan’s strand, 
Our friends are passing over; 

And just before, the shining shore, 
We may almost discover.” 


200 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


You will not be satisfied to have the author left where he 
wrote the hymn, and so I will add that in the dusk of an 
evening, a boat paddled across the river, and a fisherman 
cast his line in the water, while the boat floated along with 
the current, until the almost starved poet was discovered, 
when having caught the fish he was, after, the boat was 
paddled back to the Illinois side. 

So much for the song and its writer; now for the tune. 
George F. Root the composer, the same who wrote, “Tramp, 
tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,” and “The Battle Cry 
of Freedom,” used to spend his summers on a place called 
Willow Farm, near North Reading, Massachusetts, prepar- 
ing work for the singing classes which he used to teach in 
winter. One summer day in 1854 he was working away at 
this sort of work, when his mother came into the room and 
handed him a clipping she had cut from a newspaper, say- 
ing, “George, I think that would be good for music.” 

He looked at it, and as he read it a melody sang itself 
into his mind and he jotted it down, and went on with his 
work. Later, when he took it up again to harmonize it, it 
seemed so simple and commonplace that he thought at first 
it was hardly worth spending time on. But thinking it 
might be of use to some one, it was completed, and some 
months later printed. He says that in later years, when he 
knew the song was being sung in all the churches and Sun- 
day schools, and in mission fields, he wondered why it 
should be so. 


No. 178. 
“SQ FADES THE LOVELY BLOOMING FLOWER.” 


Miss ANNE STEELE, 1717—1778. 


In 1831, a young man in Salem, Massachusetts, sat down 
to read a story by Theodore Hook, entitled, “Passion and 
Principle.” It was a sad story and ended sadly. When 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 201 


through it he laid down the book and sat thinking of what 
he had read, and as he thought there came into his mind a 
stanza of this hymn: 


“Then gentle patience smiles on pain 
And dying hope revives again! 
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow’s eye 
And faith points upward to the sky.” 


And with the words there came an unbidden melody, and 
stepping to a piano in the room, he harmonized the melody, 
and put it upon paper and threw it into a drawer of his 
desk. Two years after, Lowell Mason came to Salem and 
opened a singing school. Toward the close of the course he 
asked if any of the class had ever attempted to compose any 
music. The tune in the desk drawer came into mind, and 
it was gotten and handed to Dr. Mason, who liked it so 
well that he asked leave to use it in a collection he was 
publishing. A name had to be given it, and the composer 
wished to use the name of his wife, Sally Cook, but all his 
efforts failed to poetize the words, and so he took the name 
of the street on which she lived when he wooed and married 
her. 


The Peace Jubilee held in Boston in 1872, under the direc- 
tion of Patrick S. Gilmore, was one of the greatest musical 
festivals ever known in this country. A grand coliseum was 
erected for its meetings capable of holding an audience of 
forty thousand people, and ten thousand picked singers and 
players from the choirs and musical societies of the country 
rendered the music. It was Gilmore’s custom to close each 
day’s program with a hymn tune. One day during the 
festival was named “President’s Day,” because on that day 
General Grant, then President of the nation, honored it with 
his presence. The tune for the day was “Federal Street.” 
Every available spot in the building was occupied and more 
than ten thousand people were in the orchestra and choir. 
When the time came for the closing hymn, the leader beck- 


202 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


oned to an old gentleman who sat among the singers, and 
when he came forward, he handed to him his baton, and 
Henry K. Oliver led that enormous choir, perhaps the largest 
that ever joined in the rendering of a musical composition, 
in singing the piece he had composed and named for this 
girl more than forty years before. 


No. 179. 
“TO THY TEMPLE WE REPAIR.” 


James Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


A Moravian minister living in a little town in Ayrshire, 
Scotland, had a little boy whom his parents intended should 
be a minister like his father. But he began to write poetry 
as early as ten years of age, and showed such a love for it, 
that the intention to make a minister of him was abandoned. 
When sixteen he went to work in a retail store, but soon tiring 
_ of this, he set out with only a few shillings in his pocket, 
to try his fortune in the world. When twenty-one his wan- 
derings brought him to Sheffield, and this was ever after his 
home. He went to work for a printer, and later became the 
owner and editor of a paper. He wrote and published a 
political song which was distasteful to the party in power, 
and was imprisoned for it. He was the friend of every good 
enterprise; of missions, of churches, of Sunday schools, and 
wrote hymns for them all, so that he won for himself the 
title of “The Poet of the Sanctuary.” He never married, 
and died while asleep. . 


No. 180. 
“LET PARTY NAMES NO MORE”—1769. 


Rev. BengAMIN Beppome, 1717—1795. 


The story is told that Rev. John Wesley was at one time 
much troubled over the final disposition of the different 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 203 


sects and the probability as to the future home of each. 
While giving to this question much thought, he had a dream 
one night in which he was carried to the gates of hell. 
“Are there any Roman Catholics here?” asked he. Saad: 
sir,’ was the reply. “Any Episcopalians?” “A great 
many.” “Any Presbyterians?” “Yes.” “Any Congrega- 
tionalists?” “Yes.” “Any Baptists?” “Yes.” “Any Meth- 
odists?” and this he thought would be a clincher; but still 
the reply came back as before, “Yes,” and away went the 

great founder of Methodism in high dudgeon. And then his 
: dream transferred him to the gate of heaven, and again he 
| 





put the same questions: “Are there any Roman Catholics 
here?” “Not one,” was the reply. “Any Episcopalians?” 
“None.” “Any Presbyterians?” “Not any.” “Any Con- 
gregationalists?” “None.” “Any Baptists?” “No.” “Any 
Methodists?” “None.” “Well, then,” exclaimed the great 
Methodist, “who are they inside?” “All Christians!” came 
out the jubilant reply. 


No. 181. 


“THOUGH TROUBLES ASSAIL, AND DANGERS 
AFFRIGHT.” 


Rev. Joon Newton, 1725—1807. 


Written in February, 1775, and first appeared in the 
Gospel Magazine, January, 1777. John Newton had a 
remarkable experience. He was born in London, and min- 
gling with idle and wicked boys, he soon became as idle and 
bad as his companions. While a young man he became an 
infidel in his opinions and a profligate in his conduct. He 
became a sailor, deserted his ship, was brought home in 
irons and publicly whipped. Then he went to the coast of 
Africa and entered the service of a slave trader and suffered 
great hardships, and became as wicked and depraved as a 
human being could well become. In his epitaph written by 







204 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


himself he described himself as “once an infidel and liber- 
tine and a servant of slaves.” At length he escaped and on 
his homeward voyage he read a religious book, and the 
thought struck him, “What if these things should be true?” 
A review of his life followed, and he became a Christian. 


No. 182. 
“WHEN MARSHALLED ON THE NIGHTLY PLAIN” 


Henry Kirke Wuite, 1785—1806. 


A Mr. James Miller and a Mr. Clarke were talking of 
Scotch melodies, and Miller expressed an ardent ambition 
to be able to compose a Scottish air. Mr. Clarke partly by 
way of a joke told him to keep his fingers on the black keys 
of the instrument and preserve some sort of rhythm, and 
what he played would be a Scottish air. Whether Miller 
followed the directions or not I do not know, but at any 
rate within a few days he had composed the air we know as 
“Bonnie Doon.” 


In the town of Nottingham, England, there was a little 
boy who helped his father at his work which was that of a 
butcher. When fourteen he was set at work at a stocking 
loom, with the hope that he might later on get employment 
in a hosiery store. A year later he entered a lawyer’s office, 
to run his errands and pick up at odd moments the rudi- 
ments of law. When a butcher’s boy, and while at the loom 
he had not been idle, but had won at fifteen years of age a 
silver medal and a pair of globes for a translation from 
Horace, and at seventeen he was writing for papers and 
magazines, and was urged to publish a volume of poems. 
He was at first a skeptic in religion, but gradually changed 
his views and became a Christian. He then left the lawyer’s 
office, and began to study for the ministry. He won a high 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 205 


place at Cambridge University, but his excessive study 
ended his life, and he died at twenty-one, of consumption. 
He wrote ten hymns. This one describes his own condition 
as a skeptic, and his progress to Christian faith. We always 
sing it to the tune of “Bonnie Doon.” 


No. 183. 
“ALWAYS WITH US, ALWAYS WITH US.” 


Rev. Epwin Henry Nevin, 1814. 


Many of our hymns have been written with no thought 
that they would be used in the public worship of Christians, 
and so they were written using the singular pronoun instead 
of the plural. This is one of them, and if we should sing it 
in this way I am not sure but it would be to each of us more 
expressive than as it is here written. It is based on the 
words of Christ, “Lo, I am with you alway.” (Matthew, 
28:20) and if we look upon that sentence as addressed to 
each one of us singly it May assume a new place as a 
-Inessage of encouragement. Let us sing it so. 





No. 184. 
| “FATHER BY THY LOVE AND POWER”’—1936. 


Pror. JosepH Ansticr, 1808—1836, 







This hymn will have an added interest when we know 
‘that its author dictated it to his wife at the very “evening 
hour” it describes; and that it expressed the thought of a 
feeble, dying man. Prof. Anstice, although only twenty- 
eight years old, had almost reached the end of life, and yet 
he devoted nearly the whole of each day to the students 


of the college in which he had been a teacher. Then when 


206 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


the evening hours came on, weary with the work, and suffer- 
ing intensely from his disease, he sat down with his wife 
and composed a hymn. In this way he wrote fifty-two 
pieces, most of which are to be found in the hymn collec- 
tions of today. 


No. 185. 


“I AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” 
Purr Buiss, 1838—1876. 


A ragged son of a drunkard, who had been drawn into a 
Sunday school and found Christ there, was so charmed with 
his new love and joy that unconsciously he kept humming 
over, “I am so glad that Jesus loves me!” 

“Stop that!” roared his father; and the child stopped, but 
soon forgot himself, and was at it again. This time he was 
ordered to bed. But the words kept ringing in the father’s 
ears, and in the middle of the night the boy heard, “Willie, 
Willie, wake up and sing that again!” Half awake he 
found that it was his father burdened with his sins, and 
begging the child to sing and pray for him. He was soon 
an earnest believer himself. 


No. 186. 


“NEARER MY GOD TO THEE.” 
Mrs. Saran Fiower Apams, 1805—1849. 


Sarah Flower Adams was a Unitarian, and it is objected 
by some to this hymn that no mention is made in it of 
Christ, and that the cross of which it sings 1s her own cross, 
and this is in keeping with the last stanza in which it is her 
own woes that are to lift her nearer to God; and to remedy 
this alleged defect in the hymn, Rev. Arthur Tozer Russell, 
a clergyman of the Church of England, has written another 
stanza as follows: 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 207 


“Christ alone beareth me, 
Where Thov dost shine: 
Joint-heir He maketh me 
Of the Divine: 
In Christ my soul shall be 
Nearer, my God, to Thee 
Nearer to Thee.” 


Still the hymn as originally written finds a response in 
Christian hearts and is accepted, while the added stanza is 
usually rejected as not in keeping with the other verses and 
not needed to complete the writer’s thought. 


No. 187. 
“WITH TEARFUL EYES I LOOK AROUND.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE ELLiotT, 1789—1871. 


One needs but to be reminded of it, to notice how closely 
this hymn and the more celebrated hymn by the same 
author beginning, “Just as I am, without one plea,” are 
related to each other. In this one, each stanza ends with an 
invitation from Christ, “Come to Me!” while in that, each 
stanza ends with the response, “O Lamb of God, I come! 
I come!” As the hymns are both of the same meter, they 
can be sung antiphonally: 


“With tearful eyes I look around. 
Just as I am, without one plea.” 


“Tt tells me of a place of rest. 
Just as I am, though tossed about.” 


“When against sin I strive in vain. 
Just as I am and waiting not.” 


208 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“When nature shudders, loath to part. 
Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind.” 


“Come, for all else must fail and die. 
Just as I am—Thy love unknown.” 


No. 188 
“JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 


Miss CuHarLoTTE ELLIOTT, 1789—1871. 


A minister (Dr. Cesar Malan) was once visiting (1822) 
at the house of a friend in Brighton, England. One evening 
he said to the daughter: of his host, “I wish you were a 
Christian woman.” She resented his speaking to her on this 
subject, and it was dropped; but what he had said, dis- 
turbed her, until she at last returned to him, and referring 
to what he had said before, said she would like to be a 
Christian, but she didn’t know how. He talked with her a 
little and at last said, “You must give yourself to God just 
as you are.” j 

“What! just as lam? You surely don’t mean that God 
will accept me just as I am?” 

“T mean just that,” was the reply. 

Nothing more was said then and soon the visitor left for 
his home in Switzerland. She became a Christian, and to | 
describe how it was done she wrote a hymn, “Just as I am.” 


A counterpart or reply to this hymn was written by Rev. 
Russell Sturges Cook and sent by him to Miss Elliott. It 
was published in the American Messenger, March, 1850. 
The relation between the reply and the hymn is made all 
the closer from the fact that the wife of Mr. Cook was the 
daughter of Rev. Cesar Malan. It begins, “Just as thou 
art, without one trace.” Miss Elhott herself also wrote a 











HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 209 


hymn which bears the relation to this hymn of invitation to 
acceptance. The hymn begins, “With tearful eyes I look 
around”: and each stanza ends with the invitation, “Come 
to Me!” (See No. 187.) 


No. 189. 
“JESUS, THY BLOOD AND RIGHTEOUSNESS.” 


For authorship see No. 63. 


Sunday schools on the continent of Europe have been 
known but comparatively a few years. The first German 
Sunday-school superintendent died in 1865, at Carlsruhe. 
At his funeral the first four lines of this hymn were read, 
as containing the creed of the man who had gone. In these 
later days, when the creeds of the churches are the subject 
of so much debate, private Christians can, I think, feel safe 
if they can adopt as their own the simple creed of this 
German Sunday-school superintendent. 


No. 190. 
“HOW HAPPY IS THE PILGRIM’S LOT.” 


Rev. JoHN Wes.ey, 1703—1791. 


In the western part of England, many years ago, there 
lived a fellow not much more than half witted, whom 
everyone called “Foolish Dick.” One morning Dick was 
on his way to a well for water, when an old Christian man 
who was leaning over his garden gate accosted him, “So 
you are going to the well for water, Dick?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Well, Dick, the woman of Samaria found Jesus Christ 
at the well.” 

“Did she, sir?” 


210 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Yes, Dick!” 

Dick passed on his way; but a new thought had entered 
his dull mind and thrilled it with new life; and when he 
came to the well he said to himself, “Why shouldn’t I find 
Jesus at the well? Oh, that I could find Him!” Such a 
prayer never goes unanswered, and when Dick left the well 
his heart was as full as his pitcher, for he had found the 
Lord. From that time on he gave up all other occupation 
and spent all his time in telling to neighbors and friends 
the story of his conversion. His mind developed, and from 
talking to a few he came to preaching to the many. His 
memory showed a wonderful power, for a chapter in the 
Bible or a hymn once repeated in his hearing was his forever 
after, and he could quote from it at will. He went about 
the country as an itinerant evangelist, without money or 
means of support, but he always found shelter and food 
and clothing. He not only preached, but he sang, and this 
hymn was his favorite song. And when he sat by the fire- 
side of some humble home where he had been received for 
the night, he would sit and wave to and fro, and sing: 


“No foot of land do I possess, 
No cottage in this wilderness, 
A poor wayfaring man, 

I lodge awhile in tents below, 
Or gladly wander to and fro, 
Till I my Canaan gain.” 


No. 191. 
“COME ALL YE CHOSEN SAINTS OF GOD”—1757. 


Rev. JosepH Harr, 1712—1768. 


Of this hymn the author says, “The week before Easter, 
1757, I had such an amazing view of the agony of Christ 
in the garden as I know not how well to describe. I was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 211 


lost in wonder and adoration, and the impression was too 
deep, I believe, ever to be obliterated. I shall say no more 
of this, but only remark that, notwithstanding all that is 
talked about the sufferings of Jesus, none can know any- 
thing of them but by the Holy Ghost: and I believe that he 
that knows most knows but very little. It was then I made 
the first part of my hymn on the Passion: 


“Come all ye chosen saints of God.” 


No. 192. 
“COME, YE SINNERS, POOR AND WRETCHED.” 


Rev. JosepH Hart, 1712—1768. 


About the year 1775, a young girl by the name of Abigail 
Binnell lived in the village of Shawbury, England. Her 
parents were strongly opposed to evangelical religion, but 
on one occasion she overheard some of the children of the 
village singing the hymn commencing: 


“Come, ye sinners poor and wretched, 

Weak and wounded, sick and sore: 
Jesus ready stands to save you, 

Filled with pity, love and power.’ 


By the Holy Spirit these words were applied to the young 
girl’s soul as a call to a new and spiritual life. Her memory 
caught hold of them, and her mind was awakened to their 
import, and following the light they gave her, she became a 
follower of Christ. At home she was persecuted, and for a 
time even driven from her father’s house. She was after- 
ward, however, earnestly invited to return, and later be- 
came the wife of Rev. Thomas Harris, a well known Meth- 
odist preacher. 


212 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 193. 
“COME, HOLY SPIRIT, COME! LET THY——” 


Rev. JosepH Hart, 1712—1768. 


The author of this hymn had a somewhat remarkable 
experience. He was the son of Christian parents, and well 
educated. Shortly after his conversion he fell into the 
delusion that he now had perfect liberty to do anything he 
wanted to. Nothing that he could do would be sin. This 
period in his life he himself describes very graphically: 
“In this abominable state I continued a loose backslider, 
an audacious apostate, a boldfaced rebel, for nine or ten 
years, not only sinning myself, but infecting others with 
the poison of my delusions.” But then came a change in 
his life and he became an earnest Christian, a faithful 
preacher, and a good hymn writer. 


No. 194. 
“GRANDER THAN OCEAN’S STORY.” 


W. F. Suerwin, 1826. 


Written during a vacation rest on one of the beaches 
near New York City, while the author was lying under the 
shade of a tree watching the ocean. 


No. 195. 
“LORD WHEN WE BEND BEFORE THY THRONE.” 


Rev. Joun Dacre Cariyis, 1759—1804. 


The inspiration for this hymn was found in Asia. In 
1799, the author, Rev. John Dacre Carlyle, accompanied 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 213 


the English ambassador to Turkey, the object of his visit 
being to see what literary treasures there might be in the 
public library of Constantinople. He extended his journey 
into Asia Minor. What he saw in his travels inspired his 
muse, and on his return he published a small book of 
“Poems Suggested Chiefly by Scenes in Asia Minor,” ete. 
(1805.) This hymn is contained in that book. 


No. 196. 
“SAVIOR BREATHE AN EVENING BLESSING.” 


JAMES EpMESTON, 1791—1867. 


It is to me a constant source of wonder how trivial 
things lead to important results. The author of this hymn 
was a surveyor and architect. One day he was reading a 
book of travels in Abyssinia, and came to a description 
of the pitching of the travelers’ tent in the evening after 
the march of the day was over, and in it occurred these 
words: “At night their short evening hymn, ‘Jesus forgive 
us,’ stole through the camp.” And so the thought af an 
evening hymn which should be a prayer alike for pardon 
and protection came into his mind, and he amplified it into 
this hymn, which has become one of our most popular and 
valued evening hymns. 


No. 197. 
“1 LOVE THY KINGDOM, LORD.” 


Rev. Trmoruy Dwicut, 1752—1817. 


Here is a beautiful hymn by a busy man. He had made 
headway enough in his studies to enter Yale at fourteen 
years of age, and from that right on he was hard at work 


214 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


at his books at early morning hours, and by light of a 
candle late at night. He soon injured his eyes, so that 
they troubled him all his life, and for years he could only 
use them a few minutes at a time in any writing or read- 
ing; but he went right on as if nothing had happened; 
became a chaplain in the army, wrote patriotic songs and 
religious hymns, was elected President of Yale College, and 
pushed its work with such vigor that it advanced in pros- 
perity more rapidly than ever before; wrote works of 
theology and volumes of sermons; and in his devotion and 
zeal and untiring activity in all church affairs fully exem- 
plified the words of this hymn. 


No. 198. 
“COME GRACIOUS SPIRIT, HEAVENLY DOVE.” 
Rev. Simon Browne, 1680—1732. 


Simon Browne began to preach before he was twenty 
years of age. When about forty years old, he was attacked 
by a highway-robber, and in the struggle which ensued 
Browne killed the robber. ,This event caused him great 
distress of mind and brought on a curious hallucination. 
He believed that God had annihilated in him the thinking 
substance and divested him of all consciousness, that he 
really had no soul. And yet, while in this condition he 
did some of the best work of his life. He was the author 
of a dictionary of the English language and wrote a 
commentary on First Corinthians which was a continua- 
tion of the work left unfinished by Matthew Henry when 
he died; and all this while he stoutly maintained that he 
had no power to think. One of his contemporaries, how- 
ever, said of him that instead of having no soul, he wrote 
and acted as if he had two. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 215 


No. 199. 
“BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS.” 
Rev. Jon Fawcert, 1739—1817. 


John Fawcett was settled as pastor of a Baptist church 
| at Wainsgate, England, in 1765, and after seven years of 
labor there was invited to the pastorate of a prosperous 
church in London and decided to accept the call. His 
farewell sermon had been preached, his household goods 
stood upon wagons at the door, and his people gathered 
about to bid him farewell, mingling with their parting 
words entreaties to remain. At last, as the story goes, 
the minister and his wife sat down and wept, and Mrs. 
Fawcett said, “O John, John, I cannot bear this! I know 
not how to go!” 

“Nor I either,” replied he, “nor will we go. Unload the 
wagons and put everything in the place where it was before.” 
A letter was sent to London explaining the circumstances, 
Dr. Fawcett settled down to work again on his salary of 
less than two hundred dollars a year, and this hymn com- 
memorates *the event. 


a) 
Ps 


No. 200. 
“AWAKE AND SING THE SONG.” 
Witu1AM Hammonp, 1719—1783. 


We who think three or four stanzas of a hymn quite 
enough to sing in our religious services, would not have 
enjoyed the practice of Christians of a century or two 
ago, I fear. Here is a hymn which, as its author wrote 
it, contained fourteen stanzas, and its title was, “Before 
Singing of Hymns, by way of Introduction:” and we may 
imagine perhaps how much time they devoted to the 
“Singing of Hymns,” if they sang fourteen stanzas “by 
way of Introduction.” . 


216 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 201. 
“JESUS MY ALL TO HEAVEN IS GONE.” 


Rev. Joun Cennick, 1717—1755. 


A gay boy, who attended dances and theatres, while 
walking along Cheapside, London, was convicted of sin. He 
became greatly depressed and reformed so far as to give 
up his gay practices; but he turned downward instead of 
upward—skeptical and weary of life, and prayed for death. 
He tried austerity and says, “I even ate acorns, leaves of 
trees, crabs, and grass, and wished often heartily that I 
could bring myself to live only upon roots and_ herbs.” 
One day while thus trying to earn salvation for himself, 
he came upon the words, “I am thy Salvation.” The words 
came to him like a revelation and led to his accepting 
Christ as his Savior. Soon after he began telling his expe- 
rience to others, and soon took up the regular work of 
a minister of the gospel. This experience of seeking to 
climb up some other way, and then of accepting Jesus as 
“the way, the truth and the life,” and then ofg telling to 
all around what a dear Savior he had found,” he com- 
memorates in this hymn. 


No. 202. 


“WHEN HE COMETH, WHEN HE COMETH.” 
Grorce F. Roor, 1820. 


“WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS.” 
Rev. Horatius Bonar, 1808. 


A minister in the steerage of an English steamer asked, 
“What shall we sing? It must be something that we all 
know, and there are people here from nearly every country 
in Europe.” 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 217 


“Then it will have to be an American hymn-tune,” 
said the master of the steerage. “Try ‘His Jewels,’ ” 

So they started up, “When He cometh, when He cometh 
to make up His jewels.” It was written by George F. - 
Root, the same who wrote “The Battle Cry of Freedom,” 
“Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys are Marching,” “Rosalie 
the Prairie Flower,” ete. 

“What next?” said the minister. 

“What a friend we have in Jesus,” was the answer; and 
people speaking three or four languages joined in singing 
this song, the tune also written by an American, Mr. C. C. 
Converse. The words are by Horatius Bonar, of Scotland. 
It was the tune that had given to the words a language 
that all could sing. 


No. 208. 


“THE LORD’S MY SHEPHERD, I’LL NOT WANT.” 


Francis Rouse. 


@ -- 


This piece, out of the old “Rouse’s Version,” well illus- 


_ trates the power of early impressions. A child only three 


years old used to be put to bed with his grandfather, and 


_ never until he died forgot the fervor with which he prayed, 


nor the feeling with which he used to repeat this para- 


phrase of the Twenty-third Psalm; and he particularly 


remembered the last stanza: 


“Goodness and mercy all my life 
Shall surely follow me; 

And in God’s house for evermore 
My dwelling-place shall be.” 


This is the testimony of Dr. John Wilson, who for fifty 
years was a philanthropist and scholar residing in the East. 


218 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 204. 
“TIME IS WINGING US AWAY”—1812. 


Joun Burton, 1773—1822. 


John Burton was a Baptist Sunday school teacher in 
Nottingham, England, and was ereatly interested in the 
general welfare of Sunday schools. He wrote many hymns 
for their use, and compiled a hymn book for the same 
purpose. When about thirty years of age, he prepared 
a eareful plan for checking disorder in Sunday schools, 
which suggests a possible difference between the Sunday 
schools of that day and of this; and another difference 
between the work done in Sunday schools then and now 
is suggested by the fact that he prepared a Sunday school 
spelling-book which had a very large sale. This is one 
of his hymns written for Sunday schools. 


No. 205. 
“TEAVE GOD TO ORDER ALL THY WAYS.” _ 


Grorc NeuMARK, 1621—1681. 


In the year 1641, a young man of twenty years was 
traveling with a party of merchants from Leipzig to 
Lubeck. He was trying to work his way to a German 
University where he hoped to be able to study. After 
passing through the town of Magdeburg, the party was 
plundered by a band of highway robbers who took every- 
thing the young man had except his prayer book and a 
little money that he had sewed up in his clothes. He went 
back to Magdeburg but could get no employment there; 
then to Luneburg and could get nothing there; and so 
from town to town hunting for work and finding none, 
until in the middle of winter he reached the town of 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 219 


Keil and fell in with one of the pastors of that town who 
befriended him; but still day after day passed on, and he 
could get no work, and he was living on the kindness of 
his new-found friend; but after nearly a month of this, 
a tutor in the family of a judge in the city fell suddenly 
into disgrace and ran away, and by the help of the minister 
_ the young man secured the position, “which good fortune” 
as he himself wrote concerning it, “coming suddenly and 
as if fallen from heaven, greatly rejoiced me, and on that 
_ very day I composed to the honor of my beloved Lord, this 
_ here and there well-known hymn, and had certainly cause 
enough to thank the Divine compassion for such unlooked- 
for grace shown me.” 


No. 206. 
“COME, SAVIOR, JESUS, FROM ABOVE.” 
MapaME ANTOINETTE BouriGNnon, 1616—1680. 


Tr. by Rev. John Wesley or J. Byrom. 


The author of this hymn was a French woman. Her 
father had urged her to accept in marriage some one of 
the many suitors who had offered themselves; but she 
refused, and to escape her father’s anger she left her home 
—a wanderer, and wrote this hymn, expressive of her 
determination to live for Christ. There are many allusions 
in it to the circumstances that called it forth. 


No. 207. 
“FROM ALL THAT DWELL BELOW THE SKIES.” 


Rey. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


By decree of the British Government, the slaves of the 
West India Islands were emancipated on the first of August, 


220 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


1834. Many predicted that the emancipation would be 
attended with pillage and blood; but these predictions 
were not verified, as no law was broken, no violence or 
insult offered to any one. “On the evening of the thirty- 
first- of July” the negroes crowded into the chapels and 
remained there, engaged in exercises of devotion, until the 
day of their freedom dawned. 

“T waited last night,” wrote Mr. William Wedlock, a 
Methodist. missionary, “for the clock to strike twelve, with 
deep emotion. Peace prevails throughout the whole of these 
western parishes, and, I believe, throughout the island. Joy 
is depicted on every countenance. I preached three times 
today to free persons. This is the first time a preacher 
could, with entire freedom, explain the fourth commandment 
to them. Thousands who have been prevented for years 
from keeping the Sabbath have now an opportunity of 
doing so.” 

A few days after, he wrote: “Could the friends of free- 
dom at home have seen the thousands of clean, well-dressed, 
and well-behaved Negroes who poured into the town, they 
would have heartily rejoiced. Our large chapel was literally 
crammed, and many stood in the yard exposed to the rays 
of a scorching sun; so anxious were the newly liberated 
people to express their thankfulness to God for the great 
deliverance He has wrought. On Friday afternoon I 
preached from I Samuel 12:22; afterward I read to them 
the Governor’s excellent letter of advice; then I announced 
the noble intention of the Bible Society to present every 
freed Negro with a Testament. Upon every face a smile 
gleamed, and tears of joy trickled down not a few swarthy 
cheeks. The multitude then arose in a mass, and shouted, 
rather than sang: 


“ternal are Thy mercies, Lord; 
Eternal truth attends Thy word; 
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore, 
Till suns shall rise and set no more.’ ”’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 221 


Thus peacefully and delightfully did the memorable first 
of August pass away at Montego Bay and throughout the 
West Indies. 

Wesleyan Methodist Magazine, October, 1867. 


No. 208. 
“LORD IN THE MORNING THOU SHALT HEAR.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Our Service of Song owes a double debt to Isaac Waits. 
He was the first to overcome by the beauty and the grace 
of his poetic hymns the authority of the Established Church 
and the prejudice of the people against the use of anything 
but paraphrases of the Psalms in the public service of 
the Church; and he was also the first to render these same 
Psalms in language adapted to the Christian era. He 
himself explains that it is his view that the Psalms “ought 
to be translated in such manner as we have reason to 
believe David would have composed them if he had lived 
in our day.” Comparing this new plan with the literal 
paraphrases of those who had worked before him he says, 
“What need is there that I should wrap up the shining 
honors of my Redeemer in the dark and shadowy language 
of a religion that is now forever abolished.” So this hymn, 
which is his imitation of the Fifth Psalm, makes direct 
reference to Christ. 


No. 209. 
“BEHOLD THE GLORIES OF THE LAMB.” 


Rey. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


When about twenty years old Watts, who had been study- 
ing in London, returned to his father’s house at Southamp- 


222 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


ton to continue his studies there. He attended church 
with his parents and complained to his father of the poor 
quality of the hymns they used. His father was a deacon 
of the church, a man of taste himself, and knew something 
of young Isaac’s poetic skill, for he had tried and failed to 
whip it out of him when a child. So the father suggested 
that he try his hand at making better ones. Before the 
next Sunday this hymn was written ready for their use; 
and go was begun the hymn writing of the man who has for 
now almost two hundred years stood at the head of the 
Poets of the Church. This is the tradition as to the origin 
of this hymn, and the language of the first stanza supports 
it. 


No. 210. 


“WHY SHOULD THE CHILDREN OF A KING?” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


Over a hundred years ago, on one of Mr. Wesley’s visits — 
to Chesterfield, he had commenced an out-door service in — 
the market place. During the first prayer the constable came 
and demanded his presence before a magistrate. The prayer 
ended, the man of authority marched off with the preacher; 
but before doing so the man of prayer showed his faith by 
saying to his hearers, “Friends, sing a hymn while I am ~ 
gone. I shall soon be back;” and he gave out the couplet: : 


“Why should the children of a King 
Go mourning all their days?” 


Mr. Wesley returned, and preached, before the hymn had 
been sung through a second time. 

(See No. 34.) This hymn was written to be sung at the 
close of a sermon from Romans 8:14-16, and Ephesians 
1:13-14. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 223 


No. 211. 
“COME WE WHO LOVE THE LORD.” 
Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


As written by Watts this hymn contains ten stanzas and 
two of the ones usually admitted in recent collections have 
some incidents connected with them. They are as follows: 


“The God that rules on high 
And thunders when He please, 
That rides upon the stormy sky 
And manages the seas: 


“This awful God is ours; 
Our Father and our love. 

He will send down His heavenly powers 
To carry us above.” 


In 1831, a Mr. James Martin, of Liverpool, was a passenger 
on board the ship Rothsay Castle when she was wrecked 
between Liverpool and Beaumavis, and most of the passen- 
gers were lost. He, with a few others, caught a plank and 
floated with it, until one after another he saw the others 
swept away by the dashing waves. He was a Christian 
man, and there alone amid the roaring seas, he thought of 
this hymn and repeated these stanzas. He was afterward 
rescued, and little wonder that he renewed his vows to con- 
secrate to the service of God the life that God had saved. 


No. 212. 
“DIVINE AND MORAL SONGS.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


When Dr. Watts was nearly forty years old, he was so 
often sick as to be practically an invalid, and a gentleman 


224 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


who knew him well, after one of his attacks, invited him 
to his home to recuperate. Of this invitation Watts after- 
ward said, “This day thirty years I came hither to the 
house of my good friend, Sir Thomas Abney, intending to 
spend but one single week under his friendly roof, and I 
have extended my visit to the length of exactly thirty years.” 
He stayed six years after that and then died. While on 
this visit, the friend at whose house he was staying sug- 
gested to him that he write some hymns for children, and 
this led him to the preparing of one of the most remarkable 
books which at that time had ever been published: “Divine 
and Moral Songs for the use of Children.” (1715.) Millions 
upon millions of copies of this little book have been sold 
both in England and America, and it has been translated 
into many other languages. It contained that good old 
cradle song with which many even of us were sung to 
sleep by mothers who now sing in heaven: 


“Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 
Holy angels guard thy bed.” 


and it contained that wonderful apostrophe to industry: 


“How doth the little busy bee 
Improve each shining hour, 

And gather honey all the day 
From every shining flower.” 


and that equally wonderful exhortation to good behavior: 


“Let dogs delight to bark and bite 
For God hath made them so; 
Let bears and lions growl and fight 
For ’tis their nature to. 


“But children you should never let 
7 day = Py AS 
Your angry passions rise; 
Your little hands were never made 
To tear each others’ eyes.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 225 


And it contained besides some beautiful hymns that have 
outlived a great many later born ones, and are still found 
in our hymnals. The following hymns are some of these: 


“Great God, to Thee my voice I raise.” 
“Blest be the wisdom and the power.” 
“Great God, with wonder and with praise.” 
“Happy the child whose tender years.” 
“When we devote our youth to God.” 
“Youth when devoted to the Lord.” 

“How glorious is our heavenly King.” 

“Let love through all your actions run.” 
“Lord how delightful ’tis to see.” 

“O, write upon my memory Lord.” 

“Lord, I aseribe it to Thy grace.” 

“My God Who makes the sun to know.” 
“O ’tis a lovely thing for youth.” 

“Our tongues were made to bless the Lord.” 
“The praises of my tongue.” 

“There is a God Who reigns above.” 

“This is the day when Christ arose.” 

“We sing the almighty power of God.” 
“What blest examples do I find.” 


No. 218. 
“JESUS, MY STRENGTH, MY HOPE’—1742. 
Rev. Cartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


There are seven stanzas in the original hymn as Wesley 
wrote it, and the last five of them begin with the words, © 
“T want.” The last stanza is never used because of its 
last four lines, which are, to say the least, peculiar. They 
read as follows: 


226 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“T want, I know not what! 
I want, my wants to see; 
I want, alas! what want I not, 
When Thou art not in me.” 


No. 214. 
“SEE HOW GREAT A FLAME ASPIRES.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


“The colliers at Newcastle thronged to hear Charles 
Wesley, felt the power of truth and were converted. Upon 
one occasion, when he was preaching there, nine or ten 
thousand attentive people listened to his word. He became 
himself so earnest that he preached two hours. ‘Many years 
of suffering,’ he said, “were compensated by that one service.’ 
The country was lighted up with blazing fires, which gleamed 
on the faces of the preacher and people from every quarter. 
This gave rise to this exquisite hymn which alludes to the 
rapid spread of religion from small beginnings by means of 
revival.” 


No. 218. 
“Q JOYFUL SOUND OF GOSPEL GRACE!” 


Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


In a letter by Rev. Richard Reece on the subject of his 
late visit to America, published in the Wesleyan Methodist 
Magazine for January, 1825, occurs the following: “It is 
customary in New York and elsewhere, immediately after 
the sermon, while the stewards are making the usual col- 
lection, for the choir to sing a few verses. The last time 
1 preached in that city, I was much charmed and affected. 
My subject had been the glorious privilege of true believers 








HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 227 


to have Christ living in them by His Spirit. A spirit of 
prayer was poured upon the congregation, and a special influ- 
ence of God accompanied the word of His grace, and much 
affected us all. At this moment the singers, joined by most 
of the people, in sounds as much resembling the melody 
of heaven as I expect to hear on earth, began: 


‘O ioyful sound of Gospel grace, 
Christ shall in me appear; 

I, even I, shall see His Face, 
I shall be holy here.’ 


The impression made, I shall never forget. The words so 
well chosen, so aptly turned, so accordant with the feelings 
of the congregation: the voices, male and female, so melo- 
dious and yet so impassioned: and the tune so soft and 
devotional that the blessing of perfect love seemed to be 
within the reach, or rather in the possession of every wor- 
shipper. Seasons like these ought to be recorded. They 
are to me times of refreshing from the presence of the 
Lord. If our singers were everywhere pious and had judg- 
ment to adapt the words to the subject and to the state of 
feeling in the congregation, such a custom would greatly 
heighten the effect produced by the sermon.” 


No. 216. 
“ARM OF THE LORD, AWAKE, AWAKE!” 
Rev. CHartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 
The first chapel built by the Methodists was at Bristol, 
the first stone being laid on May 12, 1739, and the first 
meeting being held in it June 3, only three weeks later. 


John Wesley was present and expounded) the passage, 
“Marvel not if the world hate you:” and they sang: 


228 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Arm of the Lord, awake, awake! 
Thine own immortal strength put on.” 


“And God,’ Mr. Wesley wrote, “even our own God, gave 
us His blessing.” 


No. 217. 
“JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 17 08—1788. 


A big Philadelphia policeman noticed a little boy crying 
piteously on the streets one day just after noon, and rightly 
surmised that the child was lost. 

“Hello, Johnny, what’s the matter?” he asked, kindly. 

The boy looked scared to death at the sight of the big 
policeman but managed to sob out, “I want my mamma!” 

The queer little waif was taken to the Nineteenth District 
Police Station. He was well dressed, wore a smart cap, 
and looked unusually intelligent. A volley of questions 
could not extract from him where he lived, and all he cared 
to say was, “My name is Joseph Edwards Reason, and I 
am five years old.” 

He had a clear voice and spoke with unusual distinct- 
ness. In a few minutes he had forgotten his troubles and 
was making friends with the station-house cat. Then he 
walked up to a big sergeant and said, “I can sing. Can 
you?” 

The sergeant was so astonished at his little questioner 
that he only stared in reply, but none of the officers laughed. 
They were too astonished. 

“T ean sing you one of my Sunday-school songs,” said 
the small boy. Then without waiting for an invitation, his 
clear voice, full of sweetness, rang out the words of 


“Jesus, Lover of my soul.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 229 


The effect was startling, and every one listened respect- 
fully. Men off duty came tiptoeing down stairs, and soon 
the little singer had a group of officers about him. Lumps 
came up in their throats, pipes were laid down, and eyes 
became suspiciously moist. 

The prisoners who were waiting for the patrol wagon to 
take them to jail stopped their wrangling and listened. 

The little warbler could do nothing but sing; and, to 
provide him with an all-night lodging, he was taken to 
the Central Police Station. His eyes danced as he saw 
the brilliantly lighted apartment, and he let go the patrol 
sergeant’s hand cautiously to inspect the cells. In the first 
cell was a surly-looking man who was awaiting a hearing 
before Magistrate Clement for burglary. In the other cells 
- were two “hard” characters. 

“Hello, sonny! What are ye in fur?” said one of the 
prisoners, making a desperate attempt at a joke. 

The boy looked curiously at the uninviting face through 
the iron bars, and said, “Mister, I can sing.” 

The burglar drew back abashed. Then the boy sang. 
His voice swelled like a bird’s, and the big reserves who 

were waiting for the magistrate were spellbound. 

To the astonishment of everybody, the prisoners joined; 
and the burglar supplied the harmony with his deep basso. 
Then the boy sang other hymns, and at last ran and gave 
the prisoners a drink of water at their request. As the 
prisoners walked to face the magistrate, the little singer 
went to sleep like a tired wanderer. 

Golden Days. 


No. 218. 
“EQUIP ME FOR THE WAR”—1741. 
Rey. Cuartes Wester, 1708—1788. 


One of his “Hymns on God’s Everlasting Love.” For 
the circumstances that occasioned these hymns see No. 38. 


>. 


230 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


The intense aversion felt. by Mr. Wesley for the Calvinistic 
doctrines, as well as the methods used by him and his 
opponents as well, in the theological contests of the times, 
are well illustrated in some stanzas of this hymn which are 
quite properly omitted in our collections. Here is one of 
them: 
“Increase, (if that can be) 
The perfect hate I feel 
To Satan’s horrible decree, 
That genuine child of hell: 
Which feigns Thee to pass by 
The most of Adam’s race 
And leave them in their blood to die, 
Shut out from saving grace.” 


No. 219. 
“YE SIMPLE SOULS THATS Si RAY: 
Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


John Wesley was never more calm and fearless than im 
the hour of danger. He was preaching at a certain time 
when the mob, maddened with fury, tore up the floor, while 
others on the outside pulled out the windows and doors of 
the house. Mr. Wesley walked out, looked them full in 
the face, and fixed his piercing eye upon them, when the 
mass of the people parted asunder, so that a broad way 
was made for him, and he passed through his enemies un- 
harmed. Then he wrote the hymn commencing: 


“Ye simple souls that stray.” 


and containing the stanza: 
“Angels our servants are, 
And keep us in our Ways; 
And in their watchful hands they bear 
The sacred sons of grace.” 


“Anecdotes of Wesley,” page 134. 








HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 231 
No. 220. 
“COME, O THOU ALL VICTORIOUS LORD”—1746. 


Rev. Cartes WesLey, 1708—1788. 


At Portland, in Dorsetshire, England, are extensive quar- 
ries of stone, from which large quantities have been taken 
for many years for building purposes. St. Paul’s Cathedral 
at London is built of stone from Portland. Many laboring 
men find employment here, and as the place is isolated, they 
are uncultured and rough, and often degraded. Just such 
communities as this Charles Wesley loved to seek, and so 
it is not strange that late one night—it was the fourth of 
June, 1748—after a weary journey he and his horse drew 
up at a house in Portland. Two days later he preached as 
he records it, “to a housefull of staring, loving people. Some 
wept, but most looked quite unawakened. At noon and 
night I preached on a hill in the midst of the Island. Most 
of the inhabitants came to hear, but few as yet feel the 
burden of sin or the want of a Savior.” That was on 
Friday, and on Sunday he preached again, and as he writes 
it, “after evening service we had all the islanders that were 
able to come. I asked, ‘Is it nothing to you, all ye that 
pass by?’ About half a dozen answered, ‘It is nothing to 
us!’ by turning their backs, but the rest hearkened with 
greater signs of emotion than I had before observed.” And 
then he made his prayer to God, amid the quarries and the 
stony hearted quarrymen, with the din of their hammers 
in his ears: 


“Come, O Thou all victorious Lord, 
Thy power to us make known! 
Strike with the hammer of Thy Word 
And break these hearts of stone!” 


And the Lord answered that prayer and made known His 
power; for the next day Wesley wrote again: “Now the 


232 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


power and blessing came; my mouth and their hearts were 
opened. The rocks were broken in pieces and melted into 
tears on every side.” 


No. 221. 
“ALL THANKS BE TO GOD.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


On one of his wandering trips in search of people needing 
the Gospel, Charles Wesley found his way into Cornwall 
in the south-western part of England, among the tin mines. 
He was somewhat uproariously received by the roughs of 
the neighborhood who serenaded him with the couplet: . 


“Charles Wesley is come to town 
To try to pull the churches down.” 


There is in this place a very curious pit, resembling not a 
little an old Roman circus, with circular seats or terraces 
rising all around it one above the other. This was an audi- 
ence room quite to the liking of Mr. Wesley, and here he 
began to preach. He wrote of it that “On Sunday the tenth 
of August, 1746, at Gwennap, nine or ten thousand by com- 
putation listened with all eagerness, while I commended 
them to God and to the word of His Grace. For near two 
hours I was enabled to preach repentance toward God 
and faith in Jesus Christ. I broke out again and again in 
prayer and exhortation. I believed not one word would 
return empty. Seventy years sufferings were overpaid by 
one such opportunity. 1 expressed the gratitude of my 
heart in the following thanksgiving:” And then he gives 
this hymn, written there, as his song of thanks for so great 
an opportunity to preach the Gospel. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 233 
No. 222. 


“CHRIST WHOSE GLORY FILLS THE SKIES.” 
Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


There was once a poor old man, poor in this world’s 
goods, but whose manners and appearance gave every evi- 
dence that he had learned the secret of a happy life. A 
person called on him once and supposed that he should 
touch the secret by a single question. “TI suppose, sir,” 
said he, “ that the first thing you do in the morning is to 
pray?” “No.” “No! what is it then?” “Praise,” said he. 
“Praise is my first act, and when the day begins with praise, 
you soon learn the happy art of turning the bright side of 
things toward yourself, of looking at God’s goodness until 
it cheers you, of marking the blessings of each hour as it 
passes, and of communing with a happy future until you 
find it possible to ‘rejoice evermore, to pray without ceasing 
and in everything to give thanks!’ and go the day passes, 
and from hour to hour the heart keeps up its music like a 
sweet peal of bells.” : 

“Thank you, thank you, for your lesson on morning 
music. You must have some favorite morning hymns.” 

“Oh, yes, sir, many a one; and they bring their own 
tunes with them, for no sooner does a hymn come into my 
mind, than some suitable tune for it flows from my tongue. 
Scarcely a morning passes, sir, but these verses come up 
from my heart and out from my lips: 


‘Christ Whose glory fills the skies,’ ” 


No. 228. 
“O, FOR A THOUSAND TONGUES TO SING.” 


Rev. CHARLES Wes.Ley, 1708—1788. 


Tradition, probably truthful, says that Charles Wesley 
wrote this hymn in May, 1729, a year after his own conver- 
sion and that of his brother John, and that it was written 


234 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


to celebrate the anniversary of that event. Tts title was 
“For the anniversary of one’s conversion.” It had eighteen 
stanzas beginning “Glory to God, and Praise and Love.” 
and this begins with the seventh stanza. Peter Bohler was 
a Moravian minister often consulted by the Wesleys, and 
Charles had asked his opinion of offering praise to Christ. 
Bohler replied, “Had I a thousand tongues, I would praise 
Him with them all.” This memorable utterance Charles 
Wesley has enshrined in the opening of this hymn. It is 
placed first in all Methodist Church hymnals. 


In 1757, Mr. Alexander Mather, one of Wesley’s itin- 
erants, was at Nottingham and learned of a prisoner who 
was to be executed the following day and who was filling 
the air with curses and threatenings against all who had 
given evidence against him. Mr. Mather obtained leave to 
visit him, but was repulsed with the reply, “Give yourself 
no trouble about me. By this time tomorrow, | shall be 
a devil, and then I will come and tear that villain in pieces.” 
By means of the prayers and earnest appeals of Mr. Mather 
he was apparently converted, asked for forgiveness of the 
jailor and others for his terrible threats, and acknowledged 
the justice of his sentence. Next day he asked and obtained 
permission to walk with Mr. Mather to the place of execu- 
tion, instead of being carried there in the cart. While on 
the way, in company with Mr. Mather, he sang this hymn. 
He especially thought that the fourth stanza was intended 
for him: 

“He breaks the power of cancelled sin, 
He sets the prisoner free! 

His Blood can make the foulest clean 
His Blood availed for me.” 


Armenian Magazine, March, 1780. 


The whole hymn, as Wesley wrote it, contains eighteen 
stanzas, one of which, not given here, reads as follows: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 235 


“See all your sins on Jesus laid, 
The Lamb of God was slain: 

His Soul was once an offering made 
For every soul of man.” 


One of the most celebrated preachers of his time was 
“Billy Dawson,” an eccentric layman, possessed of a vivid 
imagination and splendid oratorical powers. He delighted 
in imagery of terrible vividness and in startling sentences. 
Once while preaching a sermon entitled “Death on the 
White Horse,” he gave out to be sung, this hymn. In 
reading it, when he reached this stanza, he eried out, “See! 
What? Come and see! what? I do not ask you to come and 
see the preacher or to hear the voice of thunder, but to 
come and see yourselves your sins, and your Savior: 


“See all your sins on Jesus laid! 
The Lamb of God was slain: 
His soul was once an offering made 

For every soul of man.” 


The effect upon the audience was instantaneous. 


No. 224. 
“GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY.” 


Wiui1AM Cowper, 1731—1800. 


Cowper’s title to this hymn was “Light Shining Out of 
Darkness.” What that darkness was, the life of the author 
reveals. Cowper had at one time been placed in an asylum 
as a lunatic. Later he so far recovered as to be taken 
from the asylum and allowed his freedom, but even then 
he was subject to fits of deep depression. In one such 
attack he became possessed of the delusion that it was 


236 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


God’s will that he should drown himself at a particular 
spot in the River Thames at London. In pursuance of this 
delusion he one evening called a carriage and ordered the 
driver to take him to the Tower wharf, intending as he 
records, “to throw myself into the river from the custom 
house quay. I left the coach upon the Tower wharf intend- 
ing never to return to ‘t. But I found the water low, and 
a porter seated on some goods as if on purpose to prevent 
me. This passage to the bottomless pit being mercifully 
shut against me, I returned to the coach and ordered the 
man to drive me back to my home.” Then, it is said, he 
sat down and wrote this hymn. 

Dr. R. R. Meredith relates that when his mother lay on 
her death bed and the forces of life were ebbing away 
in a current of almost unendurable pain, @ son, bending 
over her, said, “Mother, I cannot understand why God 
should let you suffer so.” Calmly came the reply: 


“Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
And sean His work in vain; 

God is His own Interpreter, 
And he will make it plain.” 


No. 226. 
“| THINK, WHEN I READ THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD.” 


Mrs. Jemima Luks, 1813. 


Our hymns have been composed in curious places. Charles 
Wesley wrote as he jogged along the roads of old England 
on the back of his steady old horse. J ohn Henry Newman 
wrote on an orange-laden ship in the Mediterranean Sea. 


“Christ for the world we sing, 
The world to Christ we bring,” 








HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 237 


was composed while its author was walking along the streets 
of Cleveland on his way home from a meeting. Neander 
wrote hymns in a cave, and here is a hymn written in a 
stage coach, to be sung by a village school in England. 


No. 226. 
“HEAR MY PRAYER, O HEAVENLY FATHER.” 


Miss Harriet Parr, 1828. 


Here is a hymn by an author who never wrote another 
and had no intention of furnishing this one for the use that 
is being made of it. Charles Dickens was at one time 
editor of a periodical called Household Words. Every year 
at the holiday season, an extra Christmas number was 
published, and in this issue of Household Words for 1856 
there appeared a story entitled “The Wreck of the Golden 
Mary.” The story relates how the Golden Mary, on her 
voyage to California, struck an iceberg, and the passengers 
and crew were obliged to take to the boats, in which they 
suffered great privations for many days. To beguile the 
time away, they told stories. One of the crew, Dick Tarrant 
by name, had been disappointed in love and had become a 
wild youth and had at last been shipped off to California 
by his friends on the Golden Mary to get him out of the 
way. After telling in a touching way some of his experi- 
ences, he goes on: “What can it be that brings all these 
old things over my mind? There’s a child’s hymn I and 
Tom used to say at my mother’s knee, when we were little 
ones, keeps running through my thoughts. It’s the stars, 
maybe! there was a little window by my bed that I used to 
watch them at—a window in my room at home in Cheshire! 
and if I was ever afraid as boys will be after reading a good 
ghost story, I would keep on saying it till I fell asleep.” 

“That was a good mother of yours, Dick! could you say 





238 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


that hymn now, do you think? Some of us might like to 
hear it.” 

“Tt’s as clear in my mind this minute as if my mother was 
here listening to me,” said Dick. And then he repeated this 
hymn. Both story and hymn were entirely the creation of 
the author of the tale. 


No. 227. 
“BENEATH MORIAH’S ROCKY SIDE.” 


Rev. Ropert Murray McCHEYNE, 1813—1843. 


The author of this hymn only lived thirty years, but in 
this time he endeared himself to a very large circle of friends 
by his preaching and pastoral work. In 1839, when he was 
twenty-six years old, he had already so overworked as to 
break down in health, and he joined a party of travelers to 
Palestine. While there he wrote a letter to a friend at home 
dated at Mount Carmel, June 26, 1839, and in it he writes, 
“Another favorite spot was the Fountain of Siloam, farther 
down the Valley of Jehoshaphat. It flows so softly from 
under the Temple, that you cannot hear the ripple of its 
waters. You descend a great many steps in the rock, and 
drink its delightful waters. I send you a small hymn on 
the other side, which will imprint it on your memory” And 
this is the hymn. 


No. 228. 
“CQ HOLY FATHER JUST AND TRUE”—1837. 


Joun GREENLEAF WHITTIER, 1808—1892. 


Our Quaker poet Whittier was greatly interested in the 
abolition of slavery in the United States, and did much to 
mold the public sentiment that at last. brought it about. 
’ He was apparently never more delighted than when asked 








HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 239 


to write for some occasion connected with this reform. The 
emancipation of the slaves in its colonies by the English 
Government which went into effect on the first of August, 
1834, gave a new impulse to the anti-slavery movement in 
this country, and for many years this day was celebrated. 
The third anniversary, August 1, 1837, was celebrated by a 
great assembly at Broadway Tabernacle, New York, and 
Whittier wrote this hymn for that occasion, and it was first 
used then. 


No. 229. 
“WE SPEAK OF THE REALMS OF THE BLEST.” 


Mrs. ExizaserH Miiis, 1805—1829. 


The forty-fourth verse of the one hundred and nineteenth 
Psalm reads as follows: “So shall I keep Thy law continu- 
ally forever and ever.” An English writer on the Psalms 
(Bridges) commenting on this verse, uses the exclamation, 
“We speak of heaven, but oh! to be there.” Mrs. Mills, the 
young wife of a member of the English Parliament, had 
been reading this book, and this sentence fixed itself in her 
mind: “We speak of heaven, but oh! to be there,” and the 
thought of the writer she wove into this hymn. New interest 
is added to its use when we know that in.a few weeks after 
she wrote it, she herself, only twenty-four years old, had 
passed into the “realms of the blest” of which she sang. 


No. 230. 
“OUR FATHER, GOD, WHO ART IN HEAVEN.” 


Rev. ADONIRAM JuDsSON, 1788—1850. 


The first missionaries sent out by the American Board 
of Commissioners for Foreign Missions sailed from Salem, 


240 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Massachusetts, February 19, 1812, for Calcutta, India. 
Adoniram Judson and his wife were in the party. The story 
of his life and adventures in India aroused such an interest 
in America that twenty-five thousand copies of his memoirs 
were sold in the first sixty days after their publication. In 
1824 war was raging between Burmah and the British Gov- 
ernment, and Judson was thrown into the prison at Ava in 
which those were confined who were condemned to die. For 
nine months in this prison he was shackled with three pairs 
of fetters, and then for two months more with five pairs. 
During this time he was only kept from starving by his 
wife who daily came and fed him through the prison bars. 
And here in this prison, like Paul and Silas, he sang songs, 
and this hymn was written there and bears the date, “Prison 
Ava, March, 1825.” It is a verification of The Lord’s 
Prayer. It contains fewer words than the original Greek, 
and only two more than the common English translation. 


No. 231. 
“FOR WHAT SHALL I PRAISE THEE?” 
Miss Caroutne Fry, 1787—1846. 
(Afterward Mrs. Caroline Wilson.) 


Caroline Fry was a farmer's daughter. The extent and 
character of her reading when a child, may be gathered from 
the fact that when fourteen years old, she had written a 
“History of England in Verse.’ This hymn of hers has this 
peculiarity of origin that it was written to please a pious 
sister, before the author herself had embraced the Christian 
faith. So that it is in no sense a hymn of her own experi- 
ence, although we can make use of it in expressing ours. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 241 


No. 232. 
“OQ THOU TO WHOM IN ANCIENT TIME”—1824. 


Rev. Joun Prerpont, 1785—1866. 


I wonder whether any of you remember the reading books 
you used when children at school. If you happened to be 
born in New England, long enough ago, it is not unlikely 
that you read from “The American First. Class Reader”; 
and perhaps a little later from “The National Reader.” I 
remember them both very well, and could even now recite 
some of the pieces they contained. They were prepared by 
the author of this hymn. It was printed for the dedication 
of a Unitarian Church, in Salem, Massachusetts, December 
7, 1824. When the war of the Rebellion in the United States 
broke out, Mr. Pierpont was seventy-five years old, but he 
could not content himself to remain at home and the Gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts appointed him Chaplain of a regi- 
ment. His failing strength, however, was not equal to the 
hardships of the camp and he soon resigned, 


No. 233. 
“FATHER OF LIFE AND LIGHT.” 
“LORD AS A FAMILY WE MEET.” 


SAMUEL FLeTcHeER, 1785—1863. 


The author of these hymns was a wealthy merchant, liv- 
ing near Manchester, England. He was inclined toward 
poetry, and on one occasion when sickness prevented his 
attending to business, he occupied the leisure by making a 
collection of hymns for use in his family, and inserted in 


242 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


the collection a few of his own composition, these being two 
of that number. What sort of man he was may be inferred 
from the fact that for many year's he gave away from thirty 
to forty per cent of his income, and from this little extract 
from his diary: “This day I removed with my family to 
Chatham Hill, and took possession of a house more spacious 
and costly than I ever expected. I pray to God that my 
heart may not be lifted up on this account, and that I may 
not be permitted to indulge proud and vain thoughts of my 
own sufficiency and stability, and disposed to be less earnest 
in seeking ‘a building of God; a house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens.’ ” 


No. 234. 
“FATHER OF MERCIES! CONDESCEND.” 
“GO AND THE SAVIOR’S LOVE PROCLAIM’—1818. 


Rev. Tuomas Moretu, 1781—1840. 


At the opening of this century the sending out of mis- 
sionaries to heathen lands was an event more noticeable 
than it is today. The voyages were longer and more peri- 
lous; the dangers to be encountered among the people to 
whom they went were greater; the means of communication 
with home less frequent and regular; and a greater sacrifice 
of self was requisite on the part of those who went. 

A young man who was a member of Mr. Morell’s church 
bad devoted himself to this work, and in 1818 a service was 
held in his pastor’s church at which he was ordained to the 
ministry and set apart for the work of a missionary in India. 
Tt is not strange that his pastor deemed it an occasion 
worthy of special note, and he wrote these two hymns to be 
first sung at this solemn service. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 243 
No. 236. 
“WHEN ABRAHAM’S SERVANT TO PROCURE”—1773. 


Rev. JoHN Ryuanp, 1753—1825. © 


Dr. Ryland lived in Northampton, and once upon a time 
when a brother minister was passing through the town, he 
detained him quite against his will, to preach for him. The 
preacher, possibly as a sort of revenge for being pressed to 
stop and preach when he desired to go on, took for his text 
the words of Abraham’s servant recorded in Genesis, 24:56, 
“Hinder me not:” and while he preached, Dr. Ryland wrote 
this hymn, each stanza except the first containing the words 
of the preacher’s text. The hymn usually begins, “In all my 
Lord’s appointed ways.” 


No. 236. 
“LORD YVIEACHZACLITILE:CHIED #?OePRAY.> 


Rev. Joun Rytanp, 1753—1825. 


This hymn was written for a little girl of six years, who 
was dying. Her father, himself a minister (Rev Andrew 
Fuller) asked Dr. Ryland to write a hymn for the sick little 
girl, and this was written in response to that request. It 
was often repeated to her, and she told her father that she 
used often to pray over it. 


No. 2837. 
“MY TIMES OF SORROW AND OF JOY’—1778. 


Rev. BENJAMIN BeppoMg, 1717—1795. 


This hymn was written to be sung at the close of a sermon 
on the text, “My times are in Thy Hand,” (Psalm, 31:15) 


244 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and it is rather remarkable that the resignation to the will 
of God that it expresses was so well timed, for the author’s 
son died of a fever in Edinburgh, on the very day he 
preached this sermon, and read for the first time this hymn. 


No. 238. 
“COME, OH COME! IN PIOUS LAYS.” 


Grorce WITHER, 1588—1667. 


Here is a hymn writer who sang himself into prison and 
sang himself out again, and whose reputation as a poet, 
either good or bad, once saved his life. He wrote a political 
poem entitled, “Abuses stript and whipt:” and made King 
James I so angry by it that he threw him into prison. 
While here in prison he kept right on writing poetry of one 
sort or another, and by and by he wrote what he called a 
“Satire to the King;” and signed the preface, “His Majesty’s 
most loyal subject, and yet prisoner in the Marshalsea.” 
This procured him his release. Later he was a captain of 
cavalry and fought against the Covenanters in Scotland, and 
later while still a soldier he was made prisoner by the enemy 
and was about to be hung, when Sir John Denham, who was 
also a poet and hymn writer, requested that his life be 
spared, “because,” as he put it, “so long as George Wither 
lives, Denham will not be accounted the worst poet in 
England. 


No. 239. 
“MY HOPE IS BUILT ON NOTHING LESS.” 


Epwarp Motes, 1797—1874. 


Of the origin of this hymn the author says: “One 
morning it came into my mind as I went to labor, to write 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 245 


an hymn on the ‘Gracious Experience of a Christian.’ As I 
went up Holborn I had the chorus: 


‘On Christ the solid Rock I stand, 
All other ground is sinking sand.’ 


In the day I had the four first. verses complete, and wrote 
them off. On the Sabbath following I met brother King as 
I came out of Lisle Street Meeting, who informed me that 
his wife was very ill, and asked me to call and see her. I 
had an early tea and called afterward. He said that it was 
his usual custom to sing a hymn, read a portion, and engage 
in prayer, before he went to meeting. He looked for his 
hymn book but could find it nowhere, I said, ‘I have some 
verses in my pocket,’ and if he liked we would sing them. 
We did; and his wife enjoyed them so much, that after 
service he asked me, as a favor, to leave a copy of them for 
his wife. I went home, and by the fireside composed the 
last two verses, wrote the whole off, and took them to sister 
King. As these verses so met the dying woman’s case, my 
attention to them was the more arrested, and I had a thou- 
sand printed for distribution.” 


No. 240. 
“GOD WHO MADEST HEAVEN AND EARTH’—1644. 


Henry ALBerti, 1604—1668. 


The author of this hymn, although he wrote some hymns, 
is better known as a musician and composer than as a writer 
of hymns. 


A tailor was once (1685) at work in the house of a Jew 
in Hamburg, and as he sewed he sang the stanzas of this 
hymn. The Jew’s daughter heard the song, and the words 
of the third stanza attracted her attention: 


246 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Tet the night of sin depart 
As this earthly night hath fled: 
Jesus take me to Thy Heart; 
In the Blood that Thou hast shed 
Is my help and hope alone, 
For the evil I have done.” 


She was led to make inquiry as to the Jesus of Whom the 
tailor sang, and at last to accept Him as her Savior. 


No. 241. 


“HIGH LET US SWELL OUR TUNEFUL NOTES.” 
“MY GOD AND IS THY TABLE SPREAD.” 


Rev. Putire Dopprings, 1702—1751. 


These hymns have had a rather singular history. They 
have been interlopers within the covers of the Church of 
England Prayer Book for three quarters of a century. It 
happened about the year 1820 that the printer of the Prayer 
Book was a dissenter. There were a few blank leaves at 
the end of the Prayer Book, and he took the liberty of 
filling these up with a few hymns which he thought would 
be acceptable. Among others he used these two by Dr. 
Doddridge. The hymns having thus gotten in, even though 
uninvited and unauthorized, have stayed in ever since, 
because although not cordially welcomed by the Church- 
men, their bishops could scarcely find a good reason for 
putting them out. 


No. 242. 
“Q ZION, AFFLICTED WITH WAVE UPON WAVE.” 


JAMES GRANT. 


The author of this hymn was a Scotchman in the iron 
business. He was very fond of the Scotch melodies, but 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 247 


ashamed of the disreputable words usually sung to them, 
and his object in writing hymns was to provide Christian 
words for these melodies. This hymn was written in this 
way to provide religious words for the air of the “Yellow- 
haired Laddie.” 


No. 243 
“I ONCE WAS A STRANGER TO GRACE AND TO GOD.” 


Rev. Ropert Murray McCueynp, 1813—1243. 


A youth of eighteen years records of himself that on July 
8, 1831, “I lost my beloved and loving brother, and began 
to seek a Brother Who cannot die.” Four years later he 
began to preach, and eight years after this he died, at thirty 
years of age; and yet in this short time he had attained an 
eminent position as a preacher, popularity as a writer, and 
had endeared himself to a large circle of friends by his pas- 
toral labor, and his untiring devotion. He wrote this hymn 
in 1834, three years after he had begun to seek for the 
Brother Who could not die, and it reveals what through that 
short acquaintance of only three years this Brother had 
become to him. . 


No. 244. 


“COMMIT THOU ALL THY GRIEFS.” 
“GIVE TO THE WINDS THY FEARS.” 


Rev. Paut Geruarpt, 1606—1676. 
Translated by Rev. John Wesley, 1703—1791. 


These are different parts of the same hymn. A German 
Lutheran pastor in Berlin was deposed from his office and 
ordered to quit the country because of his adherence to 
Luther's faith. He was in poverty and started with his wife 
on foot. One night they came to a village inn. Hig wife 


(248 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was weary with the journey, and disheartened at their 
- friendless situation, and sat down and began to weep. Her 
husband tried to comfort her, and reminded her of the words 
of the Bible: “Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in 
Him and He will bring it to pass.” “God will provide,” said 
he, “commit our trouble to Him.” He left his wife and went 
into the inn garden, and sitting down under an arbor, the 
Bible words he had just repeated to his wife formed them- 
selves into verse: 


“Commit thou all thy griefs 
And ways into His Hands. 
To His sure trust and tender care 
Who earth and heaven commands.” 


Candor compels me to add that after having been given 
for many years as the origin of this hymn, a recent matter 
of fact historian with a penchant for dates, spoils it all by 
averring that the dates do not agree. The first word or two 
of each stanza in the German, is from the Bible text, and I 
have seen an English translation which followed the Ger- 
man, so that by reading the first word or two of each stanza, 
down the page, the text as it is in the Bible is given. 


William Dawson, of Barnbow near Leeds, better known 
as “Billy Dawson, the farmer preacher,” was at one time 
much troubled about his farm and other anxieties. One day 
he was at work on a hill top, and to divert his mind from 
his anxieties he took from his pocket a lot of papers that 
had accumulated there, and after reading them he tore them 
up into little pieces and threw them into the air, and blown 
by the wind they fluttered about like so many butterflies. 
Instantly there came into his mind, and he repeated it aloud 
and with it cheered his troubled mind: 


“Give to the winds thy fears, 
Hope and be undismayed! 
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears! 
God shall lift up thy head.” 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 249 


No. 248. 
“HOW ARE THY SERVANTS BLEST, 0 LORD.” 


JosepH Appison, 1672—1719. 
For account of Addison and The Spectator, see No. 49. 


This hymn appeared Saturday, September 20, 1712, at the 
end of an article on “The Sea.” The hymn is entitled, “The 
Traveler’s Hymn,” and purports to have been written “by a 
gentleman upon the conclusion of his travels.” Addison had 
embarked at Marseilles in 1700 for a foreign tour. While 
sailing near the shores of Italy a great storm arose. And at 
this time, while others gave up all for lost. and the captain 
in despair was confessing his sins to a Capuchin friar, the 
Christian poet was comforting himself by writing this hymn 
of trust in the God who rules the waves. 


No. 246. 
“CREATOR, SPIRIT, BY WHOSE AID.” 


JOHN Drypen, Translator, 1632—1700. 
Vent Creator Spiritus, RasANus Maurus. 


_ Here is one of the most celebrated of the Latin hymns, 

whose author is not certainly known. If it was Rabanus 
_ Maurus, as is now generally believed, he lived in the eighth 
century and was an archbishop of the Roman Church in 
Germany. As was the custom in those days he provided an 
epitaph to be used when he died, which reads as follows: 
“Quick was my mind, but slow my body, through weakness. 
That which I could I have done, and what the Lord gave 
me.” As an evidence that he did what he could, as he 
claims, it is related that when, in 850, a terrible famine 


250 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


desolated Germany, during which starving people were 
driven to the commission of many terrible deeds, he fed 
three hundred people daily at his own door. So high was 
this hymn held in the esteem of the people, that almost 
miraculous powers were ascribed to it. Speaking of it one 
writer said, “Whoever repeats this hymn by day or by night, 
him shall no enemy visible or invisible assail.” In those 
olden times the day was divided into eight parts of three 
hours each, and a service was held in the churches at the 
end of each of these periods. At nine o’clock in the morning, 
the time at which, according to the Bible, the Holy Spirit 
descended on the Day of Pentecost, they used to sing this 
hymn. This might be called the world’s royal hymn, for it 
has for hundreds of years been used in Europe at the Coro- 
nation of Emperors and Kings, and it is also used at the 
creation of Popes, the consecration of Bishops, and the 
ordaining of Priests. 


No. 247. 


Puivire Buss, 1838—1876. 


At Christmas time, in 1876, a father left his work to spend 
the holidays with his children in a little town in Pennsyl- 
vania. When the holidays were over, he with his wife 
started on their way back to their home in Chicago. On 
the way he busied himself in composing a new piece of 
music. Suddenly there came a crash and eleven cars were 
tumbled down an embankment through snow and ice into a 
river below. The cars took fire and some were killed by 
the fall, some were drowned, and others unable to extricate 
themselves from the ruins of the wreck were burned to 
death. The man who had been composing the music 
escaped through a window, then tried to extricate his wife, 
but she was fastened in the wreck and could not be rescued, 
so he quietly stayed by her side and together they were 
burned to death, and not so much as a shred ever found by 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 251 


which to identify their remains. This was Philip Bliss the 
composer, hymn writer, and Gospel singer. 


No. 248. 


Lupwic voN BrerHoveN, 1770—1827. 


Handel loved music when a child, and was forbidden by 
his father to play, but stole up into the attic when his father 
was absent and learned to play by himself, on an old harpsi- 
chord he found there. Beethoven was compelled to learn 
music against his will. He hated it because his friends tried 
to force it upon him, and he was sometimes beaten by his 
father before he would sit down to the piano. But when he 
was left alone to play as a recreation, he became absorbed 
in music, and began to compose while only a boy. When a 
young man he began to be deaf, so that after a while he 
could hear but imperfectly, and at last not at all, the music 
he was making; but it did not stop his composing, nor his 
playing, for his mental ears were not deaf, and he knew the 
sounds he was making and realized their harmony. He was 
always poor, but always generous. A concert was once 
given in aid of soldiers who had been wounded in battle. 
He supplied the music and conducted the orchestra. When 
he was offered pay for the service, he replied, “Say 
that Beethoven never accepts anything when humanity is 
concerned,” 


No. 249. 


FRANCIS JosepH Haypn, 1732—1809. 


This tune was written by the musical composer whose 
greatest musical achievement perhaps was the setting of 
the first chapter of the Bible to music in the Oratorio we 
know as “The Creation.” Many are the incidents that are 
related of him. He lived for many years in Hungary where 


252 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


his duty was to write music for a prince and his court. One 
day he was at a fair in a little village not far from where 
he lived, and there he saw a great many musical toys for 
sale. The children were trying them and the air was full 
of the mingled sounds of whistles and little drums and tin 
trumpets and a dozen other of the toys. A sudden idea 
seemed to strike the great composer, and when he went home 
from the fair he took with him one of each of the instru- 
ments he had found for sale; drums, tin trumpets, whistles, 
fiddles, bells, rattles, seventeen in all. For the next few days 
his friends must have thought him mad, for he spent his 
time in his room, and when any one went near they heard 
him playing, one after another, on these toy instruments. 
So the days went on, until by and by one day Haydn came 
out from his seclusion with a symphony, into which he had 
introduced in solo, or duet, or some other form, the music 
of each of the seventeen toys he had found at the fair. It 
was played at the court of the prince, and is often heard in 
this country, especially at children’s festivals. 


No. 2650. 


Jouann C. W. A. Mozart, 1756—1791. 


Mozart was a musical prodigy, perhaps the most wonder- 
ful that ever lived. He played the harpsichord when three 
years old; at four he played minuets to the delight of 
friends; at five he began to compose music; when six he 
astonished the Emperor Francis I at Munich by his mas- 
terly rendering of concertos on the harpsichord ; and at seven 
his genius was the theme of conversation among musical 
people all over Europe. He was very sensitive; wanted to 
be loved by those whom he loved himself. He was greatly 
attached to his father. ‘Next to God, is papa!” he said. 
He was deeply religious. “Friends who have no religion 
cannot long be my friends,” he said. His last days were 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 253 


sorrowful ones. The servant of an Austrian nobleman came 
to him one day dressed in black and asked him to write a 
requiem for which he promised a large price, but refused to 
tell who it was for. Mozart was in ill health and he imag- 
ined that the man in black was a messenger from the spirit 
world and that the requiem was for himself, “I am writing 
it for myself,” he said, and he spoke of it when it was done 
as his own requiem, and almost as soon as it was completed 
he died. 


No. 251. 
“THE MESSIAH.” 


Grorcr FRepEricK HANnpDEL, 1685—1759. 


In Great Britain, as you know, people were formerly 
imprisoned for debt. A century and a half ago, a great 
composer was in England who had been born in Halle more 
than fifty years before. A messenger came to him from 
Dublin: “Our prisons are filled with prisoners for debt. 
Give us a concert and let the proceeds go for the opening 
of the prison doors.” The composer’s heart was touched by 
the appeal from the Irish people, and in England he com- 
posed a great piece of music for the occasion. In speaking 
afterward of his feelings while he wrote it, he said, “I did 
think I saw all heaven before me, and the great God Him- 
self. On the thirteenth day of April, 1742, at noon, in Dub- 
lin, the concert was given. Its success surpassed that of 
any composition that had preceded it. The hall could not 
contain the people who flocked day after day to hear it, and 
the Dublin ladies who were then wearing great crinolines in 
their dresses agreed to leave their hoops at home to make 
more room in the hall. Later, when it was given in England 
before King George the Second, he forgot himself and leaped 
to his feet, all the audience following his example. And so 
it has been ever since the custom for audiences to rise and 


254 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


stand with bowed heads while certain parts of the Messiah 
are being rendered. When it was first rendered in London, 
a nobleman who felt disposed to patronize Handel its com- 
poser, said to him, “You have given the audience an excel- 
lent entertainment.” 

“My Lord,” answered Handel, “I should be sorry if I had 
only entertained them. I wish to make them better.” This 
was the man, and this the spirit of the man who composed 
this tune. 


No. 252. 
“ELIJAH—THE ORATORIO.” 


Feurx Mrenpeissoun Bartuoupy, 1809—1847. 


“There was one thing in music that Mendelssobn never 
could do,” said an old German musician. 

“What was that?” 

“Play a congregation out of church.” And they say that 
was literally true. Crowds thronged the churches when he 
was announced to play, and the music which was intended 
to play the audience out, only held it more firmly in. Once 
the attendants at St. Paul’s Cathedral, when he was play- 
ing, were impatient for the audience to be gone that they 
might get their suppers. But Mendelssohn kept on playing 
and the audience made no move to go. “There is only one 
way,” said one of the attendants to the other. 

“What is that?” 

“To stop the bellows:” and they did. 


There was to be a great National Festival in Birming- . 


ham, England, and Mendelssohn was invited to compose for 
it a new Oratorio. He accepted the task and threw all his 
energy into the work. It was a grand occasion when it was 
first produced. It was in the summer of 1846. People of 
all ranks, from far and near, flocked to Birmingham to hear 
the great work. And when at its completion Mendelssohn 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 255 


moved. away from the stage, the eyes of the audience fol- 
lowed him until he disappeared, and cheer upon cheer of 
praise greeted his ears. This was the “Oratorio of Elijah,” 
now so celebrated. But the production of this masterpiece 
shattered his nerves and consumed his life. He played and 
worked but little more, and in a year he was dead. 


No. 253. 


“BEHOLD A STRANGER AT THE DOOR.” 
Rev. JosepH Grice, 1728—1768. 


Of many men who lived as long ago as Joseph Grigg and 
who did far less of good we know far more. I can give you 
in a few words all that is known of him. His parents were 
poor. He wrote the hymn beginning, “Jesus and shall it 
ever be,” when ten years old. He was a laboring mechanic ; 
he gave this up to become the assistant pastor of a Presby- 
terian Church; he retired from this and married a rich wife. 
In an elegy written upon his death, he is called “The friend 
of the poor, the charm of the social circle, and the attrac- 
tive and useful preacher.” In 1756, when England was 
trembling in fear of the invasion of her coast, he preached 
a sermon on that subject, closing with a hymn ending with 
a stanza which will give a good idea of his poetic power: 


“Britons shall feel, and feeling own 

God is her shield, and God alone: 

And heart and voice and life shall sing 
To God the Universal King.” 


No. 254. 


“MT. BLANC” (Tune.) 


“The melody in part, of Mt. Blanc, was sung to me by 
Mrs. George Little, (now singing in Paradise) a sister of 


256 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Hon. Hugh McCulloch. She was the sweetest singer I ever 
heard, and this melody she had heard among the Second 
Adventists in Maine. It had the repetition in the last line. 
I added a little to the melody and harmonized it, and wrote 
the words at Ft. Wayne, Indiana. When I was in Geneva, 
a lady took me out to ride and sang this hymn in full view 
of Mt. Blanc, of which she seemed very fond; my sister, 
Mrs. Stowe, sang with me. Hence the name.” 
Letter from Rev. CHARLES BEECHER. 


No. 258. 
“OLMUTZ.” 
“HAMBURG.” 


CGrecory THE Great, 540—604. 


Almost fifteen hundred years ago a rich young Roman 
gave away his fortune to establish monasteries, and then 
entered one himself as a monk. Later he was elected Pope. 
One day he was passing through the market in Rome, where 
slaves were sold, and he saw’ among the slaves some boys 
who were white of body with fair forms and handsome faces, 
and he asked the merchant from what country he had 
brought them, and was told that they came from the Island 
of Britain, and that all the habitants of that country had 
the same beauty of face. Then the Pope asked, “Are those 
Islanders Christians?” and was told that they were still 
Idolaters. “Alas!” said the Pope, “that the Prince of Dark- 
ness should own those splendid faces! what is the name of 
their tribe?” he asked; and the merchant replied, “They are 
called Angli,” and the Pope exclaimed, “They are well called 
Angli, for if they were but Christians they would be angels.” 
These were our ancestors he was talking about, and they 
were being sold as slaves on the streets of Rome. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 257 


Gregory, for this was his name, wrote some hymns, and 
introduced a new method of singing into the church, which 
was called after him, “The Gregorian Chant.” He estab- 
lished a singing school in Rome to teach his new method, 
and taught in it himself, Among the curiosities of the 
Astor Library in New York is a copy of a facsimile volume 
of manuscript music of Gregory’s which was discovered 
Some years ago in an old monastery. This is one of his 
chants, altered to adapt it to our present mode of singing. 
We owe a great deal to Gregory and ought, I think, to sing 
the music written by his hand with a feeling that he is some- 
thing nearer to us than most of the men who lived so long 
ago. For he it was who sent out from Rome a missionary 
band of nearly forty monks to Christianize the Pagans of 
Britain, that is to say, our ancestors. 


No. 256. 
“TE DEUM LAUDAMUS.” 


Here is a story that dates back to the third century after 
Christ. It was Easter Sunday in Milan, April 25, 387. At 
sunrise throngs of people were hurrying through the streets 
to the cathedral to celebrate the Festival of the Resurrec- 
tion. There was to be a baptism in the church that day, and 
of those to whom the rite was to be administered one was a 
convert from heathenism. He had been a dissipated boy 
and his mother had prayed for his conversion for many 
years. The church was famous for its music, and was known 
as the “Singing Church of Milan.” Its Bishop was himself 
a musician, and he had composed an anthem for this bap- 
tismal service which was to be first sung on this Easter day. 
It has come down to us as his work. St. Ambrose was his 
name, and the boy convert at whose baptism it was first 
sung was St. Augustine. We call the anthem the “Te 
Deum.” The story may be true, but it can scarcely be 


258 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


called veritable history. It comes down to us that it was 
sung in alternate parts by St. Ambrose, its composer, and 
St. Augustine, while Augustine was being baptized. 


There is a story that Rev. Robert Hall had composed a 
sermon on a text that had impressed itself upon him by its 
erandeur and power. When the sermon was completed he 
took up his concordance to find the text, but it was not to be 
found. It was not in the Bible. It was a sentence from the 
“Te Deum.” “All the earth doth worship Thee, the Father 
everlasting.” . 


No. 2657. 
“AND NOW ANOTHER DAY IS GONE.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


A good man in his old age once said that the first book in 
which, as a child, he took an interest, was a small edition of 
Watts’s “Divine and Moral Songs” for children. Each hymn 
was headed by a woodcut, and one especially was his 
favorite. It represented a little boy, something like himself, 
as he thought, leaning at an open window, looking with a 
calm, happy face at the setting sun, which was throwing its 
parting light upon a quiet country scene. Many of the 
hymns, and that one in particular, had been read often, until 
they lived in his soul. But as he grew up, the impressions 
were worn off by more exciting and less pure thoughts and 
pursuits. He fell into a course of dissipation and vice, and 
seemed for a time to be given up to sin, and devoted to ruin. 
Worn down at last, and threatened with consumption, he 
was ordered into the country for change of air; and after 
some time spent in quietness and retirement, far away from 
the scenes of old temptations, he wandered out one evening 
about sunset, and hanging pensively over a gate, he watched 
the sun as it sank behind the tree, and was throwing its last 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 259 


beams upon the silent and peaceful hillside. There was a 
hush upon his spirit, and suddenly, as if sketched by an 
unseen hand before his inward eye, the little picture which 
used to interest his boyish mind lived again, and the hymn 
which it illustrated seemed to be spoken sweetly to his 
heart: 


“And now another day is gone, 
I'll sing my Maker’s praise.” 


The tears started) He had seen many of his days gone, 
but as yet his Maker had never heard an evensong from his 
lips or from his heart. What an ungrateful life his had 
been! The “remembrance was grievous. But his heart 
was broken, and there and then the softened man made his 
vows of return to God, and offered the prayer which was 
answered in blessings which filled both the mornings and 
evenings of his mature life with hymns and songs of thanks- 
giving and praise.” 


No. 258. 
“HOW VAIN ARE ALL THINGS HERE BELOW.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


Like most young men, Watts fell in love, and with a poet 
like himself. Watts was a little man, and the story is told 
that once in company, a stranger was introduced to him, 
who could not keep back the not altogether courteous excla- 
mation, “What! is this the great Watts!” To which Watts, 
accustomed from his childhood to the making of rhymes, 
improvised this reply: 


“Wad I an arm to reach the pole, 
Or grasp old ocean with a span, 
I must be measured by my soul, 
The mind’s the standard of the man.” 


260 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Well, Watts fell in love, and the young lady measured 
him by his soul, but she measured him by his little body 
too, and replied to his suit, that “while she loved the jewel 
she could not admire the casket.” The doctor rebelled at 
her decision and sent back to her the message that “flesh 
and blood could not bear the denial,” to which the lady 
replied that if flesh and blood couldn’t bear it “skin and 
bones must,” for she would not marry him. Now did Watts 
go off and drown himself, or pine away because of his dis- 
appointment? Not he; but if the tradition is to be trusted 
he went straight away and wrote a hymn: 


“Wow vain are all things here below, 
How false and yet how fair! 

Each pleasure hath its poison too, 
And every sweet a snare.” 


And gave to it the title, “Love to the Creatures is 
Dangerous.” 

So he turned away from all the loves of earth, and by the 
last stanza of the hymn devoted himself to the cultivation 
of a love for Christ, and for the beauty to be found in Him. 


No. 259. 
“LO! ROUND THE THRONE, A GLORIOUS BAND.” 


Rev. Rowianp Hit, 1744—-1833. 


John Berridge, when in his old age, wrote a letter to a 
young friend who was just beginning to preach: 


“My dear Rowley: 

“When I began to itinerate, a multitude of dangers 
seemed to engulph me. My friends were up in arms, 
my college was provoked, my bishop incensed, the clergy 
on fire, and the Church canons were pointing their ghastly 
mouths at me; my first diocesan told me that I should 


_ HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 261 


soon be either in Bedlam or in jail. But, through the 
blessing of my God, I am yet in possession of my senses, 
my tithes, and my liberty; and He Who has hitherto 
delivered, I trust will yet deliver me from ecclesiastical 
fires, and the paw of the worldly bears. I have suffered 
from nothing except from lapidations and pillory treats, 
which yet have proved more frightful than hurtful. If 
you are invited to go out, and feel yourself inclined to do 
so, take a lover’s leap, neck or nothing, and commend 
yourself to Jesus. Ask no man’s leave to preach Christ; 
that is unevangelical and shameful. Seek not much advice 
about it; that is dangerous. Such advice, I find, generally 
comes the wrong way—heels uppermost. Most preachers 
love a snug church and a whole skin, and what they love 
they will prescribe. If you are determined to be evangeli- 
cally regular, that is, secularly irregular, then expect, 
wherever you go, a storm will follow you, which may 
fright you, but will bring no real harm. Make the Lord 
your whole trust, and all will be well.” 





“Rowley” was the Rev. Rowland Hill, the author of most 
of this hymn. He followed the advice of his friend, and no 
man more than he ever had the courage of his convictions. 
Like Berridge, he was a member of the Church of England, 
but like Berridge, he would not be bound by ecclesiastical 
rules or limited by parish bounds. He was once complained 
of by other clergymen of the Church for this course, and 
entered as his defense this reply: “My field is the world, and 
I stick to my parish,” and that ended the matter. 


No. 260. 


“JERUSALEM DIVINE! WHEN SHALL I.” 
Rev. BENJAMIN Ruopgs, 1743—1815. 


An old Englishman tells the story how there used to come 
into his neighborhood a man to preach. Of him he says: 


262 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“He was a good man and a good preacher; but I can mind 
his singing much better than his sermons. He used to 
preach not far from where I lived; and when I saw the 
people flocking to the chapel, I used to go to hear the famous 
singer. Ah, he was a singer! And I believe one great secret 
of his music was, that his heart was in it. His voice was 
like an angel’s, as they say, though I never heard an angel 
sing; but I can scarcely think that an angel, or any other 
singer, could beat that happy looking preacher. He was a 
man with a long face, and a high, bald head. And his eyes 
used to sparkle as he sang, as if the hymns were coming up 
from his soul; and so they did. There was one hymn I 
always liked to hear him sing; he would sing it after the 
sermon; it was one of his own composing, and the tune was 
his too. I learned to sing it myself, and I taught my boy 
to sing it; and sometimes, long after that singing preacher 
was gone to his own ‘Jerusalem divine,’ my boy and I, and 
three or four more, used to get together of an evening, and 
sing it in full harmony. Oh, it was so rich; and it seemed 
to lift one toward heaven while we sang. This was the 
hymn.” 


No. 261. 
“GOD OF MY LIFE, TO THEE.” 


Rev. CuarLes Westey, 1708—1788. 


Charles Wesley nearly always celebrated his birthdays by 
writing ahymn. This is one of his birthday hymns, recount- 
ing the goodness of the Lord, and it contains one very curi- 
ous allusion. If you will turn to the thirty-fourth chapter 
of the book of Deuteronomy, the fifth verse, you will read: 
“So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of 
Moab, according to the word of the Lord:” or translated 
literally, ‘at the mouth of Jehovah;” and based on this Bibli- 
cal statement that Moses died ‘at the mouth of Jehovah,” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 263 


there is a very beautiful old Jewish tradition, that God 
drew the soul of Moses out of his body with a kiss. Wesley 
evidently knew of this tradition, and so he writes in one 
verse of this hymn: 


“Then when the work is done, 

The work of faith with power, 
Receive Thy favorite son 

In death’s triumphant hour. 
Like Moses to Thyself convey, 
And kiss my raptured soul away.” 


Dr. Watts had already given poetic form to the same idea 
in a poem on the death of Moses in which he writes: 


“Softly his fainting head he lay 
Upon his Maker’s breast; 

His Maker kissed his soul away 
And laid his flesh to rest.” 


No. 262. 
“DAILY, DAILY SING THE PRAISES.” 


Rev. SABINE BarInG-GouLp, 1834. 


Written in 1865 and printed on a card for the use of St. 
John’s Mission, Hosbury Bridge, Yorkshire. 

The young man who succeeds Mtesa, as King of Uganda, 
has shed the blood of three young converts of the Church 
Missionary Society. Like his predecessor, he is easily 
swayed. The captain of the royal body guard, Mugasi, was 
the ringleader in the persecution which fortunately did not 
last long. It was he who directed the execution of the three 
Christian lads. Their arms were first cut off; then they 


264 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


were bound to a scaffolding, under which a fire was made, 
and they were slowly burned to death. Mugasi and his men 
mocked them and bade them pray now, if Isa Masiya (Jesus 
Christ) would rescue them from his hands. The lads clung 
to their faith, and in the fire they sang the hymn: 


“Daily, daily, sing the praises.” 


New York Independent, December 10, 1885. 


No. 263. 
“FAR FROM THE WORLD, O LORD I FLEE.” 


WILLIAM Cowper, 1731—1800. 


When William Wilberforce, the statesman, was quite 
advanced in life, and had sat in Parliament for twenty- 
eight years, his friends induced him to contest the election 
for York. The poll was open, according to English custom, 
for fifteen days. None of the candidates had less than ten 
thousand votes. Daily, Mr. Wilberforce addressed meet- 
ings, and entertained friends at his house. But it was 
noticed that, in the midst of the excitement about him, he 
was singularly calm, and one of his agents relates that, as 
he met him, day after day, on his return to his home, he 
would hear him repeating something to himself. As this 
seemed to be in the same words always, the agent finally 
contrived to catch what he said, and found it to be a stanza 
from this hymn: 


“The calm retreat, the silent shade, 
With prayer and praise agree, 
And seem by Thy sweet bounty made, 
For those who follow Thee.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 265 
No. 264. 
“WHEN MARSHALLED ON THE NIGHTLY PLAIN.” 


Henry Kirke Wuite, 1785—1806. 


During one of his tours, which were so blessed to the 
conversion of men, Rey. Dr. Nettleton stopped at a house in 
the region of the Catskill Mountains. While conversing 
with the older members of the family, he heard two young, 
sweet and clear voices in a room above warbling the ex- 
quisitely beautiful air of “Bonnie Doon.” “Ask them,” said 
he to their parents, “to come down and sing it to me; for I 
am ardently devoted to music.” The request was complied 
with, and he listened with delighted attention till the close 
of the song, when, kindly turning to the young ladies, he 
said, “I think I can teach you some far better words to that 
tune,” and then sang to them that almost matchless hymn: 


“When marshalled on the nightly plain, 
The glittering host bestud the sky, 
One star alone of all the train, 
Can fix the sinner’s wandering eye.” 


and proceeded so touchingly and tenderly to call their atten- 
tion to the beauty of its sentiments, that tears soon flowed 
from their eyes; and these two young girls were among the 
first fruits of a revival which resulted from his labors. 


The late Rev. Alfred Cookman, who perished in the 
steamship President, is said to have been a most excellent 
singer. A writer says: “There was no place for a choir 
where Cookman sang. His voice was melody itself. The 
session of Congress was about to close upon the administra- 
tion of President Van Buren. Mr. Cookman had all his 
arrangements made to visit England, on the steamer Presi- 
dent. The next Sabbath he was to take leave of the mem- 


266 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


bers of Congress in his farewell sermon. The day came. 
An hour before the usual time, the crowd was seen filling the 
pavements of the avenue, and pressing up the hill to Repre- 
sentative Hall, which was soon filled to overflowing. Unable 
to get seats, many went away disappointed. The whole 
space on the rostrum and steps was filled with Senators and 
Representatives. The moment had come, Mr. Cookman, 
evidently much affected, kneeled in a thrilling prayer, and 
arose with his eyes blinded with tears. His voice faltered 
with suppressed emotion as he gave out the hymn: 


“When marshalled on the nightly plain, 
The glittering host bestud the sky, 
One star alone of all the train, 
Can fix the sinner’s wandering eye.” 


It was sung by Mr. Cookman alone. I ean yet, in imagina- 
tion, hear his voice as it filled the large hall, and as the last 
sounds, with their echoes, died away in the dome. 


No. 268. 
“AND LET THIS FEEBLE BODY DIE.” 


Rev. CHARLES WesLeEy, 1708—1788. 


Many years ago, a pious young lady in ill health was 
resting on her couch, and by her side sat a beloved brother, 
himself scarcely well, and utterly without a feeling of love 
to God. His sister, as descriptive of the emotions of her 
soul, repeated to him, with remarkable emphasis, the lines: 


“O what hath Jesus bought for me! 
Before my ravished eyes 
Rivers of life divine I see, 
And trees of paradise: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 267 


“I see a world of spirits bright, 
Who taste the pleasures there; 
They all are robed in spotless white, 
And conquering palms they bear.” 


Scarcely had she uttered these words before he began to 
think seriously of the state of his soul, and asked himself, 
“Has He bought nothing for me?” His sister soon had the 
happiness of having him as a companion on the Christian 
course; and both brother and sister, with another brother, 
not long after, departed for missionary fields in the island 
of Ceylon. 


No. 266. 
“MY THOUGHTS ON AWFUL SUBJECTS ROLL.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


When the late Rev. Sylvester Hutchinson was stationed 
on Salem Circuit, New Jersey, his first station, and while he 
was yet a boy, he was sitting in his temporary boarding 
house waiting for the hour of preaching, when two young 
women came in to have some sport with the boy preacher. 
They began to ridicule his size and his insignificant appear- 
ance, when, suddenly lifting up his head from a reclining 
posture, he repeated, in slow and solemn tones: 


“My thoughts on solemn subjects roll, 
Damnation and the dead, 
What horrors seize the guilty soul, 
Upon a dying bed!” 


His voice, his countenance, his manner, were all adapted to 
make them feel that 


“Tis not the whole of life to live, 
Nor all of death to die.” 


268 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


The words of the preacher were “like nails fastened in a 
sure place by the Master of assemblies.” Tears rolled down 
their cheeks; they left the room, and rested not till they 
found a refuge in the Son of God. 


No. 267. 
“I THINK WHEN I READ THAT SWEET STORY OF OLD.” 


Mrs. JEMIMA Luks, 1813. 


A newsboy in New York was one day heard crying, 
“Bank-Note Reporter, sir? Three more banks down!” The 
little fellow had not known half a score of years, but his 
eyes were bright, his tongue fluent, and his manners attrac- 
tive. Stepping into a counting house, with his bundle of 
papers under his arm, he saw two gentlemen sitting in front 
of a fire, engaged in trifling conversation, and proposed to 
one of them his inquiry, “Bank-Note Reporter, sir?” 

“No,” replied one of the gentlemen; “we don’t want any. 
But stop! If you will sing us a song we will buy one of 
your Reporters.” 

The boy agreed to the terms, and the gentlemen, with an 
air which showed that they anticipated sport, placed the 
little fellow on a high stool and told him to proceed to sing. 
They evidently expected to hear some jovial song, when to 
their astonishment he began the beautiful hymn: 


“T think when I read that sweet story of old, 
When Jesus was here among men, 
How He called little children as lambs to His fold, 
I should like to have been with Him then.” 


The effect upon his listeners was at once perceptible, and 
before he had sung through the four verses they were both 
in tears. When he had finished, one of the gentlemen 
inquired, ‘Where did you learn that hymn?” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 269 


“At Sabbath school,” replied the boy. The reader will, of 
course, expect to hear that the gentlemen bought the Re- 
porter, and will not be sorry to learn that, in addition to 
this, they presented him with a sum of money, and after 
they had obtained his name and residence they allowed him 
to go on his way. 


No. 268. 
“’M A POOR SINNER AND NOTHING AT ALL.” 


In a parish in England, there was an old sailor who went 
by the name of Jack. In going along the street one day he 
heard a number of women singing: 


“T’m a poor sinner and nothing at all; 
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.” 


The man gave up his drunkenness, and very soon gave up 
his wickedness. At last he went to she minister and asked 
to be admitted to church members?:p. The minister asked, 
“What is your experience?” 

“T have none,” said Jack. 

“Well then, John, I cannot admit you.” 

“Well,” said Jack, “I have no experience but that: 


‘I’m a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.’ ” 


“Well,” said the minister, “I will ask the deacons about 
your admission; but you will be expected to state your 
experience.” 

The deacons were assembled, and Jack was called on to 
answer their questions, to which he always replied: 


“T’m a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.” 


270 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Says the old deacon, “That is not enough; tell us your 
doubts and fears, and why you seek admission.” 


“Nay,” says Jack, “I have no doubt at all that 


‘’'m a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.’ 


and I don’t fear anything either, but 


‘’'m a poor sinner, and nothing at all, 
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.’” 


Jack was admitted and to the end led a Christian life. 


No. 269. 
“IN THINE OWN WAY, O GOD OF LOVE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A beautiful fact in connection with singing is told of the 
excellent George Whitefield. During the delivery of a ser- 
mon in Boston on the wonders of creation, providence, and 
redemption, a violent tempest of thunder and lightning came 
on, which so alarmed the congregation that they sat in 
breathless awe. The preacher closed his notebook, and step- 
ping into one of the wings of the desk, fell on his knees, and 
with much feeling, and fine taste, repeated from Dr. Watts: 


“Hark, the Eternal rends the sky, 
A mighty voice before Him goes, 
A voice of music to His friends, 
But threatening thunder to His foes. 


“Come, children, to your Father’s arms, 
Hide in the chambers of My grace, 

Till the fierce storms be overblown, 
And my revenging fury cease!” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 271 


“Let us devoutly sing to the praise and glory of God this 
hymn, Old Hundred.” The whole congregation immedi- 
ately arose and poured forth the sacred song. By the time 
the hymn was finished, the storm was hushed, and the sun, 
bursting forth, showed the magnificent arch of peace. Re- 
suming the desk, the preacher quoted, with admirable tact, 
“Look upon the rainbow: praise Him That made it. Very 
beautiful is it in the brightness thereof! It compasseth the 
heaven about with a glorious circle; and the Hands of the 
Most High have bended it.’’ The episode added intense 
interest to the service. 


No. 270. 
“JESUS! THE NAME HIGH OVER ALL.” 


Rev. CuHartes Wester, 1708—1788. 


There was a little girl, a Sunday-school scholar, severely 
scalded. She was taken to the hospital, and only survived 
a short time. There lay the little sufferer, all her last night 
on earth, in the doleful sick ward of that hospital; nothing 
was heard to break the stillness of the hour, but the ticking 
of the great clock. By and by there rose from her bed a 
low, but sweet and beautiful melody: 


“Jesus! the Name to sinners dear, 
The Name to sinners given; 
It scatters all their guilty fears; 
It turns their hell to heaven.” 


All was still again; nothing was heard but the ticking of the 
great clock in the ward. At length the voice broke out 
again, and even more sweet than before: 


“Happy, if with my latest breath, 
I may but gasp His Name; 
Preach Him to all, and cry in death, 
Behold, behold the Lamb!” 


272 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


The nurse hastened to the bedside, but she was too late; 
angels had been there before, and the happy spirit of the 
child had gone from singing “Behold the Lamb!” on earth, 
to see Him in His glory above. 

“Biblical Treasury.” 


No. 271. 
“GOD IS THE REFUGE OF HIS SAINTS.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


An impressive scene took place in Tremont Temple, 
Boston, a few days after the great fire in that city. The 
meeting was in the main an assemblage of the city govern- 
ment, the merchants, and the solid men of Boston. It was 
opened by religious exercises, one of which was the singing 
of ahymn. The selection was an impressive one, and it was 
sung alike by cultivated voices and by voices unused to 
singing, by men whose merchant palaces were still smoking 
only a few steps from where they were uplifting their voices 
in reverential awe to God. The hymn opened as follows: 


“God is the Refuge of His saints, 
When storms of dark distress invade; 
Ere we can offer our complaints, 
Behold Him present with His aid. 


“Tet mountains from their seats be hurled 
Down to the deep and buried there, 
Convulsions shake the solid world, 
Our faith shall never yield to fear.” 


Thus far the hymn had rolled out fully and grandly, with 
a majesty suited to the gravity of the occasion. But lower, 
sweeter notes followed, and there was moisture in strong 
men’s eyes. The stanza, so soothing, so tender, so refreshing, 
yet full of feeling, began: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 273 


“There is a stream whose gentle flow, 
Supplies the city of our God, 

Life, love and joy, still gliding through, 
And watering our divine abode.” 


A little way from that place the hot streets, guarded by 
soldiers, lay smoking in the noontide sun. The scorching 
ashes, fanned anon by the complaining autumn wind filled 
all the broad area from the foot of Beacon Hill to the 
harbor. Marble columns lay broken and blackened, and 
granite walls lay crumbling in the dust. Yet, weary with 
watching the parched ground, the still consuming desolation 
of fire, the merchants whose millions had vanished could 
unite in a common bond of sympathy, and sing this verse 
of confidence and faith. 


No. 272. 
“WE'RE TRAVELING HOME TO HEAVEN ABOVE.” 
Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


At the close of a prayer meeting at Charleston, in a public 
hall, the pastor urged all who were present to join their 
Christian band and march with them to the home of the 
faithful and blest, and requested the congregation to sing 
this hymn. It was sung with earnestness and power, and 
as it rose and filled the hall, it reached the ears of a husband 
and wife who were sleeping in a room above, and after lis- 
tening to several verses, the woman sat up in bed and said, 
“Yes, I will go.” 


No. 273. 
“COME WE WHO LOVE THE LORD.” 
Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A young boy of twelve, named Arthur, had been con- 
verted, and had lived a Christian life several months, when, 


274 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


one day, he yielded to passion, and threw a stone which 
nearly killed a little playmate. His sufferings from remorse 
and penitence for that harm that he had done and the dis- 
honor he had cast upon his Savior were intense, and at the 
class meeting several days after, his sorrow was still so deep 
that he could not speak when called upon, and his father 
spoke for him. During the meeting the hymn had been 
sung, in which occurs the verse: 


“The hill of Zion yields 
A thousand sacred sweets,” 


Just before the meeting closed, Arthur said, earnestly, 
through his tears, “I’m trying to climb up that Zion’s hill.” 
This incident was the basis of the familiar Sunday-school 
hymn: 
“Y’m trying to climb up Zion’s hill, 
For the Savior whispers ‘Love me.’ ”’ 


The Rev. Joseph Slattarie, of Chatham, England, was 
once walking in that town, when his attention was arrested 
by a youthful voice singing: 


“The sorrows of the mind 
Be banished from the place! 
Religion never was designed 
To make our pleasures less.” 


Pleased alike with the sweetness of the voice and the 
cheerful tones in which the verse was sung, he looked around 
to see whence the singing proceeded; but for some time he 
looked in vain. At length he saw a little sweep with his 
head popping out of a chimney and waving with a sort of 
triumph his brush over his head. ‘Oh,’ said the venerable 
minister, in relating the incident, “It made me weep in 
gratitude to think how singing the praises of God con- 
tributes to make even a poor chimney-sweep happy.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 275 


“Some impressions,” says a young man, who went out as 
a missionary to the heathen, “of the importance and neces- 
sity of true religion, were made upon my mind, at a very 
early period. The first particular one that I recollect was, 
I think, when I was about five years of age. There hap- 
pened one day a very vivid storm of thunder and lightning 
in our neighborhood; on which occasion a few Christian 
friends, who lived near us, terrified by its violence, came 
into my father’s house. When under his roof, in a moment 
there came a most vivid flash, followed by a dreadful peal 
of thunder, which much alarmed the whole company, except 
my father, whe, turning toward my mother and our friends, 
with the greatest composure, repeated those words of Dr. 
Watts: 


“The God That rules on high, 
And thunders when He please, 
That rides upon the stormy sky, 
And manages the seas. 


“This awful God is ours, 
Our Father and our Love, 
He shall send down His heavenry powers 
‘To carry us above.” 


These words, accompanied by such circumstances, sunk 
deep into my heart. I thought how safe and happy are 
those who have the great God for their Father and Friend; 
but being conscious that I had sinned against Him, I was 
afraid He was not my Father, and that instead of loving 
me, He was angry with me. And this for some time after 
continued to disturb and grieve my mind. He then pro- 
ceeds to say that those early impressions were succeeded by 
others which terminated in his conversion.” 


“Arvine’s Cyclopedia.” 


276: STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 274. 
“THE GOD OF ABRAM PRAISE.” 


Rev. THomas OLtivers, 1725—1799. 


The late Rev. T. M. Eddy, D.D., passing through the 
streets of Baltimore, saw an aged and feeble colored man 
sawing some hard wood by the side of the road. Feeling 
that the colored man’s lot was a hard one, as he contrasted 
his age and feebleness with the hardness of the work to be 
done, he approached him to speak a few kind and encourag- 
ing words. But drawing near he heard the old man singing 
softly and sweetly the words: 


“The God of Abram praise, 

Whose all-sufficient grace 

Shall guide me all my happy days 
In all His ways: 

He calls a worm His friend, 

He calls Himself my God! 

And He shall save me to the end, 
Through Jesus’ Blood.” 


The Doctor passed on, saying, “He is rich; he has a better 
friend than I could be, and he is safe.” 


No. 275. 
“HOW HAPPY EVERY CHILD OF GRACE.” 


Rev. CHarLes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


A little girl, sobbing as though her heart would break, 
while the warm gushing tears rolled down her cheeks, 
went forward to, and knelt down at, an altar, saying, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 277 


“T’m so wicked, I want you to pray for me.” Soon after 
she arose, her face shining with a heavenly radiance, and 
sang: 
“How happy every child of grace 
Who knows his sins forgiven!” 


People said, “She is only a child, she will soon get over 
it.” But she did not. She kept on singing. And some 
time afterward, when her mother had company, she came 
into the room as happy as a lark, singing this same hymn. 
Her mother said, “You ought not to sing in company.” 
But she replied, “I can’t help it; it sings itself.” 


No. 276. 
“NOW THAT THE SUN IS GLEAMING BRIGHT.” 


Rey. Joun Henry Newman, 1801. 


It adds interest to the translation of this hymn to know 
that the original was sung by the death-bed of William 
the Conqueror, in the year 1087. His closing hours formed 
a night of half sleep, half stupor, the struggling expiring 
body taking a dull, painful, broken rest before its long 
earthly repose; but as the sun was just rising above the 
horizon, shedding brightness on the walls of the apartment, 
William was aroused by the tolling of the great cathedral 
bell, and inquired what the sound meant. “It is the hour 
of praise,” was the answer of his attendants. Then were 
the priesthood in full choir welcoming with voices of glad- 
ness the renewed gift of another day, in the words of the 
hymn which Cardinal Newman translates as above, but 
before the close of the hymn William the Conqueror was 
dead. 


278 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 277. 


“LATE, LATE, SO LATE! AND DARK THE NIGHT AND 
CHILL.” 


ALFRED TENNYSON, 1809—1892. 


This hymn with its refrain, “Too late! Ye cannot enter 
now,” was sung in a certain church and deeply impressed 
a lady who heard it. The next night in coming to the meet- 
ing, she was late, and the crowd was so great that she 
could not get in. The Spirit seemed to whisper to her, 
“What if this was the door of heaven, and you—too late?” 
She went home deeply thoughtful, and that night gave her 
heart to God and became a happy Christian. 


No. 278. 
“JESUS LOVES ME THIS I KNOW.” 


Miss ANNA WarRNER, 1822. 


One Sunday a man came into a Sunday school at the 
Boston North End Mission, drawn by the sweetness of 
the children’s singing. He remained until the close, and 
came again that evening to the prayer meeting. When 
the customary invitation to seek the Savior was given, he 
came forward and found peace in believing. To a few 
of the workers who remained to pray with the penitent 
seekers, he said, “My friends, I feel that I’m a saved man, 
and I owe it to your children’s singing, ‘Jesus loves me,’ 
this afternoon. I couldn’t realize it, I’ve been such a 
miserable sinner: but after I went away I thought it 
over, ‘Jesus loves me;’ and then I thought of the next line, 
‘For the Bible tells me so,’ and I tried to believe it, and 
I came here this evening to get you to pray for me.” He 
became a regular attendant at the Mission, and while there 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 279 


gave the clearest evidence of a genuine change of heart. 
He afterward felt called to enter the ministry, and after 
preparation, did so and became an active pastor of a 
Massachusetts church. 

Dr. E. TourJEs. 


No. 279. 
“MY LATEST SUN IS SINKING FAST.” 


Rev. JEFFERSON: Hascauu, 1807. 


“Once I was detained after prayer-meeting with a few 
others, to converse and pray with a young woman who was 
under deep conviction, and who refused to go away from 
the place of prayer until she had found Jesus. It seemed 
to be all in vain that I talked with her, explaining the 
atonement, quoting the simplest and strongest promises of 
the Gospel, and urging her to an immediate and simple 
faith; it was all in vain that I prayed with and for her. 
At last, because, as it seemed, I could do nothing else, I 
began to sing that little hymn, the last verse of which goes: 


“O bear my longing heart to Him 
Who bled and died for me; 
Whose Blood now.cleanses from all sin, 
And gives me victory.” 


We had sung the whole hymn through and were hushed 
into silence by the Spirit. . During the singing of the last 
stanza, our friend had lifted her weeping face toward mine, 
and was looking intently and eagerly at me, as though she 
would fain drink in the words and power of the song. And 
now, in the hush that was upon us, reaching out both her 
hands to me, she said, in a plaintive kind of whisper, 
“Please sing that last verse again.” And again we sang 
softly and tenderly: 


280 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“OQ, bear my longing heart to Him 
Who bled and died for me; 

Whose Blood now cleanses from all sin, 
And gives me victory.” 


As the words and melody died away, the expression of 
her face changed; the darkness was overpast, and the 
light and gladness of His peace had come in the place of 
it; and with a cry of joy she turned and flung herself into 
the arms of her sister, who was standing near, exclaiming, 
“T am saved! I am saved ! Oh blessed Jesus.” 

Rev. G. F. PENTECOST. 


No. 280. 
“JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL.” 


Rev. CHartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


A poor woman, who had no hope in Christ, was dying 
in the attic of one of the tenement houses of New York. 
A minister was sent for, but his words and prayers failed 
to give her hope. She said again and again as he talked to 
her, “It’s no use; I’m too wicked, and it’s too late.” 

At length he began to sing, “Jesus, Lover of my soul,” 
and sang two verses. Noticing her deep interest, he turned 
to her and said, “Can’t you trust Him now?” 

With a smile of joy she replied, “Other refuge have I 
none.” Her happy face showed her acceptance of Jesus. 


Several years ago a ship was burned near the English 
Channel. Among the passengers were a father, mother, 
and their little child, a daughter not many months old. 
When the discovery was made that the ship was on fire, 
and the alarm was given, there was great confusion, and the 
family became separated. The father was rescued and 
taken to Liverpool; but the mother and infant were carried 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 281 


overboard by the crowd, and, unnoticed by those who were 
doing all in their power to save the sufferers still on the 
ship, they drifted out of the Channel with the tide, the 
mother clinging to a fragment of the wreck with her little 
one clasped to her breast. Late in the afternoon of that 
day, a vessel bound from Newport, Wales, to America, was 
moving slowly along in her course. There was only a 
slight breeze, and the captain was impatiently walking 
the deck when his attention was called to an object some 
distance off, which looked like a person in the water. The 
officers and crew watched it for a time, and as no vessel 
was near from which anyone could have fallen overboard, 
they thought it impossible to be a human being. The 
captain sent a boat, which was watched with deepest inter- 
est from the ship. As the boat approached the object 
floating, suddenly the sound of a gentle voice was heard 
so softly singing, and the sailors listened to the words of 
the first verse: 


“Jesus, Lover of my soul, 
Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
While the nearer waters roll, 
While the tempest still is high! 
Hide me, O my Savior, hide, 
Till the storm of life is past; 
Safe into the haven guide, 
O receive my soul at last!” 


Soon the rescued mother and child were safe on board the 
ship, and ultimately reached America. The father joined 
them four months afterward. 


In the winter of 1872, Mr. Charles Trumbull White, being 
engaged in hospital work of a religious character, visited 
Bellevue Hospital, New York City. He was specially urged 
by the attendant to see an English sailor in one of the wards, 
who was near death. The man was found to be fast going, 


282 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and unable to articulate. Mr. White, therefore, leaned 
down and repeated, so that he might hear them, the words 
of this hymn. To all appearance they were uttered to the 
“dull cold ear of death,” and he departed, feeling as though 
he had failed to secure the least response. About midnight, 
however, of the same night, this unknown sailor seemed to 
arouse. He sat up in his cot, and with a clearly audible 
voice he spoke the words: 


“Jesus, Lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly,” 
and continued until he had repeated the entire hymn. He 
then added other verses of hymns for several minutes, but 
ceased suddenly, fell back, and was dead. Who can tell 
how great a bridge had been thrown by those familiar 
words across the gulf of memory, and how great a comfort 
they may have brought to his dying hour? 

Rev. 8. W. Durriexp, 1x English Hymns. 


Rey. Mr. Spurgeon relates that an ungodly stranger once 
stepping into one of his services at Exeter Hall was brought 
to the Cross by the words of Wesley’s hymn: 


“Jesus, Lover of my soul.” 


“Does Jesus love me?” said he. “Then why should I 
live in enmity to Him?” And he became a Christian. 


A party of Northern tourists formed part of a large 
company gathered on the deck of an excursion steamer 
that was moving slowly down the historic Potomac one 
beautiful evening in the summer of 1881. A gentleman, who 
has since gained a national reputation as an evangelist 
of song, had been delighting the party with the happy ren- 
dering of many favorite hymns, the last being the sweet 
petition so dear to every Christian heart, “Jesus, Lover of 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 283 


my soul.” The singer gave the first two verses with much 
feeling, and a peculiar emphasis upon the concluding lines 
that thrilled every heart. A hush had fallen upon the 
listeners that was not broken for some seconds after the 
musical notes had died away. Then a gentleman made his 
way from the outskirts of the crowd to the side of the 
singer and accosted him with, “Beg your pardon, stranger, 
but were you actively engaged in the late war?” 

“Yes, sir,’ the man of song answered courteously; “I 
fought under General Grant.” 

“Well,” the first speaker continued with something like 
a sigh, “I did my fighting on the other side, and think, 
indeed, am quite sure, I was very near you one bright 
night eighteen years ago this very month. It was such a 
night as this. If I am not mistaken, you were on guard 
duty. We of the South had sharp business on hand, and 
you were of the enemy. I crept near your post of duty, 
my murderous weapon in my hand; the shadow hid me. 
As you paced back and forth you were humming the tune 
of the hymn you have just sung. I raised my gun and aimed 
at your heart, and I had been selected by our commander 
for the work because I was a sure shot. Then out upon 
the night rang the words: 


‘Cover my defenceless head 
With the shadow of Thy wing.’ 


Your prayer was answered. I couldn’t fire after that, and 
there was no attack made upon your camp that night. I 
felt. sure when I heard you sing this evening that you were 
the man whose life I was spared from taking.” 

The singer grasped the hand of the Southerner and said 
with much emotion: “I remember the night very weil, 
and distinctly the feeling of depression and loneliness with 
which I went forth to my duty. I knew my post was one 
of great danger, and I was more dejected than I remember 

~to have been at any other time during the service. I paced 


284 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


my lonely beat, thinking of home and friends and all that 
life holds dear. Then the thought of God’s eare for alt 
that He has created came to me with peculiar force. If 
He so cares for the sparrow, how much more for man 
created in His own image; and I sang the prayer of my 
heart and ceased to feel alone. How the prayer was 
answered I never knew until this evening. ‘Jesus, Lover 
of my soul’ has always been a favorite hymn with me; 
now it will be inexpressibly dear.” 

This incident is related by a lady who was one of the 
party on the steamer. 

London Freeman. 


No. 281. 


“LORD, I HEAR OF SHOWERS OF BLESSING.” 


Mrs. EvizasetH CopNer. 


Mrs. Codner is the wife of an English clergyman. In 
the year 1860 some of her young friends had been greatly 
interested in an account of revival work to which they 
had listened. She was anxious that they themselves might 
receive a blessing from it and wrote for them this hymn. 
She says, “I longed to press upon them an earnest individual 
appeal. - Without effort, the words seemed to be given me, 
and they took the form of a hymn. I had no thought of 
sending it beyond the limit of my own circle, but passing 
it on to one and another, it became a word of power, and 
I then published it as a leaflet, 


No. 282. 
“QO MASTER IT IS GOOD TO BE.” 


Rev. ArtHurR PewryHN STaNuey, 1815—1881. 


That is a very pretty and a very helpful story that is 
told in “Tom Brown’s School Days,” of the new boy who 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 285 


was made Tom’s chum, and whose name was Arthur. He 
was a home-loving boy and nearly cried when Tom told 
him he mustn’t talk about his home or his mother before 
the other boys, because they would call him names if he 
did. And then Arthur drew upon himself the attention of 
the whole room full of boys by washing his face before 
he went to bed. And then when he had washed and un- 
dressed and put his night gown on, right there in the room 
with its twelve beds and its twelve boys, all laughing and 
talking, with the light burning brightly, Arthur kneeled 
down beside his own bed and said his prayers. Tom’s back 
was turned, and so at first he didn’t see what Arthur was 
doing, but he heard the sneers and the laughs from the other 
beds, and he saw a slipper come flying over from the middle 
of the room, and then he saw it all; and in an instant the 
boot he had just taken off went flying straight for the head 
of the bully who had thrown the slipper. And then the 
lights went out, and Tom lay thinking, and a great pano- 
rama passed before his eyes. He saw his old home, and his 
mother, and he heard her voice and his own, as he promised 
her that he would never go to bed until he had knelt and 
asked God to keep him; and he remembered how that 
promise had been broken; and the next night he knelt too, 
and then other boys did; and so by the courage of the little 
newcomer Arthur, the whole school was changed. Arthur 
grew up, and when he had become a clergyman of the Church 
of England, he wrote this hymn. 


No. 288. 
“CAST THY BREAD UPON THE WATERS.” 


Rev. Puorse A. HAanarorp, 1829. 


The author of this hymn is a married lady and yet the 
pastor of a Universalist church. She has a record quite 
unique as a breaker down of traditional customs, She 


286 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was the first woman who ever offered an ordaining prayer; 
the first woman to exchange pulpits with her own son; the 
first woman to officiate at the marriage of her own daughter; 
the first woman regularly ordained to the ministry in 
Massachusetts or in New England; the first woman to serve 
as chaplain of the Connecticut Legislature; the first woman 
to attend a Masonic festival and to respond by invitation 
to a toast. I have no doubt she can truthfully add that 
she is the first “woman minister,” as she calls herself, to 
write a hymn. She wrote an autobiography and never 
mentioned in it her husband’s name. 


No. 284. 
“I HEAR THE SAVIOR SAY.” 
Mrs. Exvina Masen Hat, 1818. 


I am afraid that the circumstances under which this 
hymn was written will not increase your respect for its 
author, even if it does not lessen your love for the hymn. 
John Ryland composed a hymn while sitting in the pulpit 
listening to a sermon by a brother minister whom he had 
invited to preach for him, and it never seemed to me quite 
courteous to the preacher, if it was respectful of the occa- 
sion. But what shall we say of the author of this hymn, 
who, in the spring of 1865, sat in the choir of a Methodist 
church in Baltimore, and while the minister was praying, 
scribbled the words on the fly leaf of a copy of the “New 
Lute of Zion.” 


No. 285. 
“JESUS, THE NAME HIGH OVER ALL.” 
Rev. CHartes Wester, 1708—1788. 


Charles Wesley was once preaching in a little church in 
Cornwall, England, among the miners, and was condemning 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 287 


in no uncertain words the drunken revels of the people, 
when a man arose in the congregation, and with some pro- 
fanity disputed the preacher’s words. Mr. Wesley ex- 
claimed, “Who is this that pleads for the devil!” and the 
man stepped out boldly before the congregation. Mr. 
Wesley immediately addressed his words tw this man him- 
self, exposing and rebuking his wickedness in such withering 
words as drove the man clear out of the room. This hymn 
is said to have been written to commemorate this victory. 


No. 286. 
“WESLEY’S HYMNS FOR CHILDREN.” 


In No. 212 will be found a note on Watts’ “Divine and 
Moral Songs.” The Wesleys, who came a little later in 
the century, bestowed rather faint praise on the children’s 
hymns of Watts, by saying, “There are two ways of writing 
or speaking to children; the one is to let ourselves down 
to them, the other to lift them up to us.” Dr. Watts has 
written in the former way, and has succeeded admirably 
well, speaking to children as children, and leaving them as 
he found them. And then they go on to describe a little 
book of hymns they themselves have published with an 
easy self-adulation that is quite refreshing. “The following 
hymns,” they say, “are written on the other plan; they 
contain strong and manly sense: yet expressed in such 
plain and easy language as even children may understand. 
But when they do understand them, they will be children 
no longer, only in years and stature.” But the “Children’s 
Hymn Book” of the Wesleys, even with their great name 
and fame to help it, fell quite flat, and is now among the 
very rare books only to be found in library collections, 
while the “Divine and Moral Songs” of Watts, who “let 
himself down to the children,’ can be bought today, a 
century and a half after they were written, at almost any 
book store. And yet some of Mr. Wesley’s hymns for 


288 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


children are good, and to be found in many of the hymnals 
now in use. Here is a list of them all written by Rev. 
Charles Wesley: 


“And am I born to die?” 

“And am I only born to die?” 

“And must I be to judgment brought?” 
“Captain of our salvation, take.” 

“Come Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.” 
“Glorious God, accept a heart.” 

“Hail Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.” 
“Loving Jesus! Gentle Lamb!” 

“Maker, Savior of mankind.” 

“O all-creating God.” 

“O Thou That would’st not have.” 

“Thou the great eternal God.” 

“Thou my God art good and wise.” 
“Where shall true believers go?” 
“Young men and maidens raise.” 
“Teacher, Guide of young beginners.” 
“God is goodness, wisdom, power.” 
“Holy Child of heavenly birth.” 

“Let children proclaim their Savior and King.” 
“O Father of all, the great and the small.” 
“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild.” 

“Come let us join the hosts above.” 
“Happy beyond description he.” 

“Come let us join with one accord.” 
“Happy man whom God doth aid.” 
_“But who is sufficient to lead?” 

“Let all that breathe Jehovah’s praise.” 
“Good Thou art and good Thou dost.” 


= 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH ‘289 


A great many years ago an English father, whose daugh- 
ter was away from home at school, wrote in a letter to her, 
“Buy of Mr. Evans, Mr. Wesley’s ‘Hymns for Children’ 
and get them by heart. I will pay for the book and give 
you a penny for each hymn you learn, which I believe will 
amount to nearly four shillings. These hymns afforded 
much comfort to your sister Peggy, who is now in heaven.” 


No. 287. 
“WHERE SHALL MY WONDERING SOUL BEGIN?” 
“AND CAN IT BE THAT I SHOULD GAIN?”—1738. 


Rey. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


The conversion of Charles Wesley marks an epoch in 
the religious history of the world as remarkable as that 
which dates from the conversion of “Saul of Tarsus.” It 
occurred on May 21, 1728, and two days later he wrote 
in his journal, “At nine I began a hymn on my conversion 
but was persuaded to break off for fear of pride : 
I prayed Christ to stand by me, and finished the hymn.” 
Thus the spiritual life that became one of the mightiest 
influences for good in Great Britain, and which in the great 
denomination of which he was one of the founders, has 
become a tremendous ‘religious power the world over, ex- 
erted its first activity in composing a hymn; and this hymn 
writing did not stop until the author had given to the world 
nearly seven thousand more. 

Both the hymns of which the first lines are named were 
written at that time, and it is not known to which Wesley 
referred in his journal. 


290 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 288. 
“OQ, WHERE SHALL REST BE FOUND?” 
“PEOPLE.OF THE LIVING GOD.” 


JAMES MontcomeEnry, 1771—1854. 


I place these two hymns together because each is the 
expression of an actual experience of the author, and because 
one answers a question which the other asks. When Mont- 
gomery was about thirty-six years of age (in 1807) he was 
in great distress of mind—dissatisfied with himself—at peace 
neither with God nor with his own conscience. At this 
time and in the midst of this experience he wrote the 
hymn: 


“O where shall rest be found 
Rest for the weary soul?” 


After seven years of doubt and uncertainty, he turned at 
last back to the Savior of whom his pious parents had 
taught him, and whom he himself had in his youth accepted, 
and was readmitted into the church, of which he first be- 
came a member while a boy. And then under the influence 
of this new experience he wrote the words which answer 
the question of his earlier hymn: 


“People of the Living God, 
I have sought the world around, 
Paths of sin and sorrow trod, 
Peace and comfort nowhere found. 
Now to you my spirit turns— 
Turns a fugitive unblest; 
Brethren when your altar burns, 
O receive me into rest.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 291 


No. 289. 
“GRACIOUS SPIRIT, DOVE DIVINE!” 


JOHN STOCKER. 


During the latter half of the last century there was 
published at London a monthly called the Gospel Magazine. 
Each number contained the portrait of some well-known 
minister, articles of interest to the religious public, quite 
often a hymn tune composed for it, and at the end of each 
number there were several pages of religious poetry. In 
one of the numbers of the year 1776 (the year this nation 
was born) there appeared this hymn, signed J. Stocker. 
The writer lived at Honiton, in Devonshire, and this is 
all we know of him. Not quite all, though, for during that 
~ year and the next he sent to this magazine eight other pieces, 
all good Gospel hymns, and two of them have found frequent 
place in the hymn collections of the present day. From 
these hymns we can gain some idea of their author’s talent, 
his education, and his spirit. Draw for yourselves the 
picture of John Stocker’s face while I read to you one of 
his quaint old hymns that, for my part, I should very much 
like to see restored to its place in our hymnals: 


- 1. “Thy mercy, my God, is the theme of my song, 
The joy of my heart, and the boast of my tongue; 
Thy free grace alone, from the first to the last, 
Hath won my affections, and bound my soul fast. 


2. “Without Thy sweet mercy, I could not live here, 
Sin soon would reduce me to utter despair; 
But, through Thy free goodness, my spirits revive, 
And He That first made me, still keeps me alive. 


3. “Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart, 
Which wonders to feel its own hardness depart; 
Dissolv’d by Thy goodness, I fall to the ground, 
And weep to the praise of the mercy I found. 


292 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


4. “The door of Thy mercy stands open all day 
To the poor and the needy, who knock by the way; 
No sinner shall ever be empty sent back, 
Who comes seeking mercy for Jesus’ sake. 


5. “Thy mercy in Jesus exempts me from hell; 
Its glories I'll sing, and its wonders I’ll tell: 
"Twas Jesus, my friend, when he hung on the tree, 
Who opened the channel of mercy for me. 


6. “Great Father of mercies! Thy goodness I own, 
And the covenant love of Thy crucified Son: 
All praise to the Spirit, Whose whisper divine, 
Seals mercy and pardon and righteousness mine!” 


No. 290. 


“WHEN ISRAEL FREED FROM PHARAOH’S 
HAND”—1712. 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Every Saturday in the Spectator (for account of which 
see No. 49), Joseph Addison published some religious article 
usually ending with a hymn. These fell under the eye of 
Dr. Watts, who wrote a letter to the editor in which he 
said, “Upon reading the hymns that you have published in 
some late dates, I had a mind to try yesterday whether I 
could write one. The One Hundred and Fourteenth Psalm 
appears to me an admirable ode, and I began to turn it 
into our language. If the following essay be not too incor- 
rigible, bestow upon it a few brightenings from your genius, 
that I may learn how to write better or write no more.” 
Then follows this rendering of that Psalm. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 293 


No. 291. 
“THERE IS A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD.” 


WiuuiaM Cowper, 1731—1800. 


A poor Sabbath scholar has fallen down a hatchway and 
broken his hip. The doctor says he is internally injured, 
and that he cannot help him. The boy’s teacher is sent for, 
and is surprised at the greeting he receives. ‘Teacher, you 
are just in time to hear my great joy; I am going home to 
Jesus.” : 

“T did not know you ever thought of such things, John; 
how long have you felt so?” 

“Dear teacher, you never asked me; I have been longing 
to have you for six months. Now sing my favorite hymn 
with me, dear teacher.” And while they sang the words: 


“And sinners plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains.” 


the messenger came to call the lad home. 


“Full sweetly on the evening air, 
Rang out the well-known strains, 
‘There is a fountain filled with blood 
~ Drawn from Immanuel’s veins, 
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains.’ 


“Thus sang a little company, 
Whose hearts by grace renewed, 
Had gathered in an upper room 
‘To tell their gratitude 
To Him, by Whose atoning love, 
Their sins had been subdued. 


294 


STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“A weary man who passed that way, 
Bowed down with weight of sin, 
Who long had asked how such as he 
Relief and rest might win, 
Heard the glad sound, so sweet, so clear 
Amid the city’s din. 


“A wand ’rer on that city’s streets, 
And bound he knew not where, 
He turned aside to seek the place, 
Entered, and climbed the stair, 
Intently list’ning as he rose, 
To words, to him so rare. 


“The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day, 
And there may I, . . . ‘O what is this! 
A thief, a thief, they. say;’ 
‘And there may I, though vile as he, 
Wash all my sins away.’ 


“As thus he speaks, the room he finds, 
And, e’er in prayer they bow, 
He cries, ‘Oh, friends, for me so lost, 
Plead you for mercy now.’ 
They bid him pray; ‘Alas,’ he says, 
‘To pray, I know not how.’ 


“But taught by loving lips the way, 
He learns to pray at last, 
And on the Saviour of the lost 
His weight of guilt to cast; 
As from his contrite heart goes up 
The prayer of ages past— 


““O God, be merciful to me, 


A sinner, Lord, am I; 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 295 


In my despair and helplessness, 
To Thee, O Lord, I ery: 

Lost, helpless, ruined, hear my prayer, 
Lord, save me, or I die.’ 


“The God Who heard the publican, 
Heard this heart’s honest prayer, 
And he who came a child of wrath, 
In sorrow and despair, 
Went forth a free and happy man, 
And God’s own’ child and heir. 


“OQ ye who have the art of song, 
The talent ye possess, 
Ye well may consecrate to God; 
How would you dare do less? 
If used for Him, O who can say 
How greatly He may bless?” 
R. M. Orrorp, in New York Observer. 


Dr. Dashiell, in his “Pastor’s Recollections,” tells an 
affecting story ef the power of this hymn upon the heart of 
a skeptic. He had been called to visit a family where the 
little child had just died. He found the father a man 
of violent prejudices against religion, especially against 
clergymen, owing to the unworthy conduct of a former 
ministerial friend. Persevering in his efforts to secure an 
influence with this very unpromising person, Dr. Dashiell 
relates that the first point of contact was this hymn. His 
early associations had endeared it to him, and he had never 
ceased to admire and love it in spite of his infidel opinions. 
After a considerable length of time, the skeptic met with 
a severe injury—his arm being drawn into machinery and 
crushed so that amputation was necessary. It was at first 
very doubtful if the patient would rally, but finally he was 
heard to murmur something, and as Dr. Dashiell bent over 
him to catch the words, he distinctly caught the language 
of the stanza: 


296 STORIES OF TH GREAT 


“The dying thief rejoiced to see, 
That fountain in his day, 

And there may I, though vile as he, 
Wash all my sins away.” 


It was a confession of faith on what seemed—though 


providentially it was not—the very edge of death.” 
“English Hymns.” 


Rev. H. M. Gallaher, a Baptist minister, relates the 
following incident. ‘During the War of the Rebellion in 
America—and I know something about it—I stood and 
looked at a dying soldier—not wounded, but perishing of 
pneumonia. I asked him if I could do anything for him. 

“He said, ‘I want you to read to me.’ 

*T did so, and asked him what next. ‘Will you pray for 
me?’ 

“T prayed. Looking again, I saw his lips move, and had to 
get very close to hear his answer. ‘Can I do anything else 
for you?’ 

“Yes, sir, Can you sing?’ So I sang for him: 


‘There is a land of pure delight, 
Where saints immortal reign.’ 


and then stopped. He was looking upward, and asked me 
to continue. Then I sang: 


‘There is a fountain filled with blood, 
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins.’ 


He asked me: ‘Will you sing that over again?’ 

“Supposing he meant the first one, I said, ‘Which? About 
that “land of pure delight?” ’ 

““No, sir; sing that about the “fountain filled with 
blood.’ ” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 297 


At a meeting in City Road Chapel, London, to consider 
the wants of the neglected poor of the great city, John 
Boynton, a minister, related how a blaspheming scoffer 
took his stand by the statue of Lord Bute in Cardiff, and 
began an infidel harangue to a crowd of working men who 
gathered about him. When he had finished, a railway porter 
stepped up in front and said: “Aren’t you going to sing 
before yOu go away?” 

“Oh, no,” was the reply, “we don’t sing.” 

“WwW ell, I do,” said the porter, and he struck up at once 
a verse of Cowper’ s familiar hymn: 


“The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day; 
And there have I, though vile as he, 
Washed all my sins away.” 


On the next night he met the same speaker and the same 
assembly at the same place with a powerful accordion under 
his arm. By the attractive and spiritual singing, with its 
musical accompaniment, he entirely drew away the audi- 
ence from the infidel speaker and sang to them the gospel 
of Jesus Christ, to their delight and profit.” 

St. Louis Christian Advocate, November 11, 1885. 


i) Miranda N says a Christian pastor, was about eigh- 
teen years of age, " much distinguished for personal beauty, 
but more for uncommon sweetness of disposition and great 
amiableness of deportment. There was not probably among 
all the people of my charge, one whose case would have been 
more promptly cited, and perhaps none so effectively, to 
disprove the doctrine of the entire sinfulness of the unregen- 
erate heart. She was deservedly a general favorite. She 
seemed to entertain the kindest affection toward all, and 
every one who knew her, loved her. One evening at an 
inquiry meeting, held at my house, I noticed in a full room, 





298 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


a female in great apparent distress. The disturbance she 
made by her loud sobs, and frequent and painful interrup- 
tion of the silence of the room, induced me to pass by 
others, and go to her at once. On coming to her seat, I 
was not a little surprised to find myself by the side of 
Miranda. The first inquiry I put to her was this: “What 
has brought you here, Miranda?” 

With emphasis sie replied, “My sins, sir.” 

With a view to testing the reality~and depth of her 
convictions, I then said, “But what have you done, which 
makes either your heart or your life appear so heinously 
sinful?” 

At the second question she broke out in a voice that 
reached the extreme part of the room and thrilled through 
every heart, for she was known and loved by every person 
there: “I hate God, and I know it. I hate Christians, and 
I know-2t... I hate my own being; oh that I had never been 
born!” As she uttered this acknowledgment, she arose and 
left the room in irrepressible agony. Deeply as I was inter- 
ested in her case, I could not follow her and leave the 
many with whom | had yet to converse: but conducted her 
across the hall into the opposite room, where Mrs. 8 
was employed in attendance upon a sick child. The re- 
mainder of the narrative I received from Mrs. S After 
a little conversation, as I was informed, between Mrs. $ 
and Miranda, who was walking the room in great distress, 
her eye lighted upon a copy of “Village Hymns,” which lay 
upon the sideboard. She eagerly caught it up and read at 
the first page to which she opened, these words: 











“There is a fountain filled with blood, 
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins; 
And sinners plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains.” 


As she finished this verse she dropped the book and ex- 
claimed, “I have found my Savior! This is the Savior I 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 299 


need. O precious Savior.” And many other expressions of 
the same kind. Her enmity to God was gone. Her burden 
was removed. Christ was all in all to her.” 

Arvine’s “Cyclopedia.” 


“During the move on Atlanta, I was coming back from 
the front, when I learned that there was no chaplain in 
either of the two hospitals. I therefore determined to forego 
business at Chattanooga and stop over. There were many 
low cases, and among them an Indiana soldier sent for me in 
the night. He was dying,—a fair-haired youth of eighteen 
years. His leg had been cut off by a shell, and amputation 
had prostrated him beyond recovery. He was a Sunday- 
school boy. He wanted me to take his last words home 
to his mother and sister. He gave me his memorandum and 
pocketbook and a number of keepsakes; asked me to pull 
the two rings from his hand and send to his sister, and 
tell her that they were taken off after his hand was getting 
eold. After prayer, we sang the hymn commencing: 


‘There is a fountain filled with blood.’ 





He joined in, breaking the tune now and then with, ‘Yes, 
yes, if he could trust Him, I can.’ ‘Yes, when I die.” ‘That 
will be sweeter.’ ‘Power to save; power to save; I used to 
sing that hymn at home, but it was never so good as this; 
‘“nower to save.”’ I gave him my hand for goodbye. He 
drew me down for a kiss. And then we left him.” 

“Annals of the U. 8. Christian Commission.” 


No. 292. 
“MY HEAVENLY HOME IS BRIGHT AND FAIR.” 


Rev. Witu1aM Hunter, 1811—1877. 


On January 10, 1860, the Pemberton Mill, a large cotton 
factory at Lawrence, Massachusetts, suddenly fell in ruins, 


300 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


burying the operatives in the debris. Some were rescued 
alive, the others would have been, but a broken lantern 
set the buildings on fire, and the rescuers were driven from 
their work. In one room there were three Mission Sunday 
school children imprisoned. The neighbors and friends had 
been working hard to get these children out and had got so 
near to them that their voices could be heard when the fire 
drove them back. Superhuman were the efforts made to 
rescue the children; the men bravely fought back the flames; 
but the fire gained fresh strength and returned to claim its 
victims. Then piercing shrieks rose from the spectators 
when they saw that the efforts of the firemen were hopeless. 
The children saw their fate. They then knelt down and 
commenced to sing this hymn: 


“My heavenly home is bright and fair, 
Nor pain nor death can enter there; 
Its glittering towers the sun outshine; 
That heavenly mansion shall be mine.” 


One verse of this hymn is as follows: 


“Let others seek a home below, 

Which flames devour, or waves o’erflow, 
Be mine a happier lot to own, 

A heavenly mansion, near the throne.” 


No. 2983. 
“NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE.” 


Mrs. Saran Frowrer ApAms, 1805—1848. 


“A child’s song in a New York hospital startled the 
nurses and patients on Thursday last. On the night before, 
an ambulance was called from Gouverneur Hospital to a 
house in Hester Street for a burned child. She had been 


HYMNS OF HE CHURCH 301 


sent by her parents to the cellar for firewood, and in de- 
scending the steps she stumbled and dropped the lamp, 
which exploded and set her clothing on fire. The surgeon 
wrapped the poor, crisped, writhing form of the child in what 
is known as a ‘prepared sheet,’ and told the driver to get 
to the hospital quickly. There all was done for her that 
science could do, but it was impossible to save her life. A 
narcotic was given her, and she fell asleep. Waking after 
some hours, she asked for water. The nurse immediately 
called the doctor. In a minute he was beside the cot. He 
felt the pulse, ominously shook his head, gave some more 
instructions, and turned to go away. As he did so, the 
little creature turned half around. The dim light of a 
candle shone on the blackened face. The swollen lips 
pursed out, and, in a clear, sweet voice, the dying child 
began to sing the hymn: 


‘Nearer my God to Thee, nearer to Thee.’ 


The doctor and nurse stood transfixed. The other patients 
in the silent, darkened ward leaned on their elbows and 
drank in the sweet melody.. The first verse completed, her 
strength began to fail, and with it her voice, and only the 
humming-like distant music of the air of the hymn could 
be heard. That ceased, she heaved a sigh, and all was. 
over. Her tuneful aspiration was granted to her.” 
The Christian Herald, October 7, 1886. 


A colporteur in Missouri, describing the labor of a single 
day, relates that after traveling ten miles through an un- 
broken prairie, he at last reached the door of a humble 
cabin containing a poor, old, blind man and his son and 
daughter. “Like many others they had sought for wealth 
and found only poverty in the West. The only book their 
house contained was an old torn United States History. 
They had no money to buy any books, as I saw at a glance, 
so I gave them two volumes of the Tract Society’s publica- 
tions. The old man inquired if I could sing. I answered 


302 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


in the affirmative and proceeded to sing that divine song 
so precious to every child of God, ‘Nearer my God to Thee.’ 
He accompanied me on the accordion, on which he was a 
skilful player. When I sang the third verse: 


‘There let the way appear, 
Steps unto heaven; 
All that Thou sendest me, 

In mercy given; 
Angels to beckon me 
Nearer, my God, to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee!’ 


he stopped me with his sobs, and after a few moments sald, 
his tearful eyes telling his sincerity, ‘Oh, sir, my blindness 
is a heavy cross, but if it will only bring me nearer to 
Jesus, I am no loser.’ We then prayed together and spoke 
of our heavenly home, and remembered. with pleasure, ‘that 
there is no night there.’ Though ten years in Missouri, 
that family had not been to a religious service in the state.” 
The Christian Weekly, March 16, 1872. 


No. 294. 


“OH SAY! CAN YOU SEE BY THE DAWN’S EARLY 
LIGHT.” 


Francis Scorr Kry, 1779—1843. 


“It was my privilege to go into Richmond with Genera] 
Grant’s army. There I saw the captives who were in Libby 
prison. Many a time I wept for hours to hear what they 
endured. Sometimes they got letters or messages that 
loved ones were dying, and, of course, they could not go 
home to see them in their dying hour. There they were in 
prison one beautiful day in spring: the news had been kept 
from them; they had not heard what was going on around 
Richmond. One says while they were listening, ‘I heard a 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 303 


band of music; they were playing the old battle tune of the 
Republic; I think I hear the “Star Spangled Banner.”. I 
say, boys, I believe Richmond is taken.’ By-and-by they 
all listen and say, ‘It is so.’ Soon the Northern army 
unlocked the gates, and three thousand men were set, free.” 
D. L. Moopy. 


During the War of the Rebellion, a young lady was 
heard to say, “I wish I could do something for my country ; 
I would willingly become a nurse in a hospital, but I have 
not physical strength. What can I do?” 

A friend replied, “You can sing.” 

“Yes, I can sing, but what of that?” 

“Go to one of the hospitals and sing for the soldiers.” 

The idea pleased her. She accompanied a friend who was 
long used to such visits, and who introduced her by saying 
to the patients, “Here is a young lady who has come to sing 
for you.” At the mere announcement every face was aglow 
with animation, every eye was riveted upon her with expec- 
tant pleasure. She sang a few songs, commencing with the 
glorious “Star Spangled Banner.” As the thrilling notes 
of that song ran through the apartment, one poor man, 
who had been given up by the physician as an almost hope- 
less case, raised himself in his cot, leaned his head upon his 
hand, and drank in every note like so much nectar. The 
effect. was electrical. From that moment he began to mend, 
and finally recovered.” 

Hacxert’s “Christian Memorials of the War.” 


No. 298. 
“WHAT MEANS THIS EAGER, ANXIOUS THRONG?” 


Miss Erra CAMPBELL. 


During the Moody and Sankey meetings in Great Britain, 
a young man arose in one of the meetings, and said, “It 


304 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was a few evenings ago, when Mr. Sankey was singing, 
‘Jesus of Nazareth passeth by,’ that I was made to feel 
the need of a Savior; and when he came to the words, 
“Too late, too late,’ I said to myself, ‘It must not be too 
late for me,’ and I took Him to my heart then and there.” 


No. 296. 
“WHEN HE COMETH, WHEN HE COMETH.” 


Rev. Wo. O. Cusuine, 1823. 


In a Highland parish, in Scotland, a young man who had 
lived far from God and seemed to his minister inaccessible 
to the truth, was found one day deeply awakened. When 
asked to what this was owing, he said it was the consequence 
of hearing his little sister sing: 


“When He cometh, when He cometh, 
To make up His jewels.” 


No. 297. 
“SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.” 


Miss Fanny J. Van ALSTYNE, 1823. 


During the Moody and Sankey meetings at Liverpool, 
England, a young man said, “I went into that hall only to 
scoff at all I heard. I believed only in God and the devil; 
the latter I thought I served well, and I sat laughing at 
the fools about me. Mr. Sankey sang the hymn: 


‘Safe in the arms of Jesus, 
Safe on His gentle breast.’ 


A sudden thrill passed through my whole frame, and then 
like a dart ran through my very heart. My feelings were 
awful, but I listened to the second verse, and felt, “There 
7s a Saviour. Who is He? Where is He? Instantly I 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 305 


realized the truth. Jesus is the Saviour. I threw myself 
into His loving arms, and here I am now, rejoicing in Him.” 


No. 298. 
“SOWING THE SEED BY THE DAYLIGHT FAIR.” 


Puiuip Buss, 1838—1876. 


One night during the Moody and Sankey meetings in 
Philadelphia, the hymn, “Sowing the Seed,” was announced. 
Mr. Sankey said, “Before we sing this song I will tell you 
one reason why we should sing these hymns, and that is 
that God is blessing them to many a poor wanderer who 
comes into these meetings night after night. Last week, 
a man who had once occupied a high position in life came 
into this hall and sat down. While I was singing this 
hymn, he took out his passbook and wrote down these 
words: 

‘Sowing the seed of a lingering pain, 
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain, 
Sowing the seed of a tarnished name, 
Sowing the seed of eternal shame, 

O what shall the harvest be?’ 


Last night in the inquiry room that man went down on his 
knees and asked God to break the chain that had dragged _ 
him down from such a high position to the lowest of the 
low.” 


No. 299. 
“YET THERE IS ROOM.” 


Rev. Horatius Bonar, 1808. 


A young man who had been deeply impressed at one of 
the Moody and Sankey meetings in Great Britain, but was 


306 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


yet unwilling to stay to the inquirer’s meeting and was 
about to leave the church, was arrested at the door by 
hearing the choir sing: 


“Yet there is room! The Lamb’s bright hall of song, 
With its fair glory, beckons thee along; 
Room, room, still room! Oh, enter, enter now!” 


He felt there was room for him, went back to the pew, and 
after having had the truth clearly laid before him, received 
Christ. 


No. 300. 
“FOREVER WITH THE LORD.” 


James Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


A little girl named Maggie, was very ill of a fever, and 
the van had come to take her away to the infirmary. Maggie 
was dressed and ready. “Maggie, it’s time for you to go,” 
said her mother. 

“Ye know, mother,” said Maggie, “T’ll maybe no come 
back: will the man wait till I sing my hymn?” Even a 
hard heart could not have refused, and so the man waited 
while the little feeble voice sang: 


“Here in the body pent, 
Absent from Him I roam, 

Yet nightly pitch my moving tent 
A day’s march nearer home.” 


And then they carried the dying child, with joyous thoughts 
like these filling her young heart, to the infirmary, to make 
from there the last stage of the journey from this to the 
eternal world. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 307 


No. 301. 
“THE LORD’S MY LIGHT AND SAVING HEALTH.” 
PsaALM 27. 


A boy was brought to Christ when at a public school. It 
became known among his school-fellows, and one day, when 
he entered the playground, he found them drawn up in a 
body to meet him; and as soon as they had him in their 
midst, they assailed him with laughter and cries of con- 
tempt. He was taken completely by surprise; his face 
burned with shame and anger, and the ground seemed to be 
reeling under his feet. It was a Monday morning, and the 
first. exercise, after they had entered the school, was to 
repeat some verses of a Psalm. A pupil was called up to 
repeat them, and as the poor young Christian sat bewil- 
dered among his persecutors, the first words which fell on 
his ears were: 


“And now even at this present time, 
Mine head shall lifted be, 

Above all those that are my foes, 
And round encompass me.” 


They seemed sent straight from heaven to him. They com- 
pletely drove away his agitation, and made him calm and 
happy. He knew it was his Father saying to him, “Be 
strong, and of good courage”; and sorely did he need this 
encouragement in his hour of confession. 


No. 3802. 


“MID PLEASURES AND PALACES THOUGH WE MAY 
ROAM.” . 


Joun Howarp PAYNE. 


One night on the banks of the Potomac, during the War 
of the Rebellion, as the Confederate and the Union armies 


308 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


lay opposite each other, the Union bands played “The Star- 
spangled Banner,” ‘Hail, Columbia,” and other Union 
songs; and the Confederates in contest played “Dixie,” and 
other pieces of their side. It seemed that each would play 
the other down. By and by a band struck up “Home, Sweet 
Home!” The conflict ceased. The bands on the other side 
struck up “Home, Sweet Home,” and voices from opposite 
sides of the river joined the chorus, “There is no place like 


home.” 


No. 308. 
“NOW ISRAEL MAY SAY AND THAT TRULY.” 


PsaLmM 124. 


This is known in Scotland, in its second version, as 
“Durie’s Psalm.” James Melville, in his diary—date 1582 
—gives an account of the incident which gave rise to the 
name. John Durie had been banished from his pulpit and 
from Edinburgh, for his boldness of speech in criticizing 
some of the acts of James Sixth, but the feeling in his favor 
was so strong that his sentence had to be reversed. He 
says: “Within a few days after the petition of the nobility. 
John Durie gat leave to gae hame to his ain flock in Edin- 
burgh: at whase returning there was a great concours of 
the haill toun, wha met him at the Nether Bow; and going 
up the street, with bare heads and loud voices, sang to the 
praise of God, and testifying of great joy mal consolation, 
the one hundred and twenty-fourth Psalm—‘Now Térbel 
may say and that trewly’ till heaven and earth resound it. 
This noise, when the Due (of Lennox) being in the toun 
heard, and ludging in the Hiegate looked out and saw, he 
rave his beard for anger, and hasted him off the toun.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 309 
No. 304. 
“OH GIVE YE PRAISE UNTO THE LORD.” 


Psaum 117. 


The battle of Dunbar, between the English and the Scot- 
tish armies, took place on the morning of September 3, 1650. 
The Scotch Army was commanded by Lesley, and that of 
England by Cromwell. The battle is thus described by the 
historian Guizot: “Cromwell had just left a prayer meeting, 
and mounted his horse, accompanied by Lambert, his major- 
general. Surveying with his glass the positions of the Scot- 
tish army, he was struck by the movement which was going 
on among the enemy. Lesley was preparing to throw him- 
self across the way with all his troops. Cromwell asked 
nothing better than to fight. “The Lord delivers them into 
our hands; they come!’ he exclaimed, and he proposed to 
his officers to forestall the Scots and to march toward 
them. Monk vigorously supported the general’s opinion, 
and solicited the command of the infantry of the advanced 
guard. The English spent the whole night in preparing for 
the struggle. A dense fog prevailed at daybreak. T he first 
engagements were not fortunate for Cromwell and his 
troops. The men fought almost without seeing each other, 
to the ery of ‘Covenant!’ among the Scots, and ‘The Lord of 
Hosts!’ among the English. The Scottish lancers had 
thrown the English advance guard into some disorder; 
toward seven o’clock the regiment of Cromwell charged 
sharply. At the same time the sun, dispersing the mists, 
lit up the sea and mountains. ‘Let God arise!’ exclaimed 
Cromwell, ‘and let His enemies be scattered!’ Inspired by 
his enthusiasm, his soldiers redoubled their efforts; the Scot- 
tish cavalry wavered; an infantry corps, which yet resisted, 
was broken by the Ironsides. ‘They run! they run!’ cried 
the English; a rout began. “They were now but stubble to 
our swords,’ wrote Cromwell. At nine o’clock the battle was 


310 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


over; three thousand dead bodies and ten thousand prisoners 
testified to the victory of the English general.” And on the 
battlefield after the victory, the army of Cromwell sang as 
their thanksgiving hymn, the one hundred and seventeenth 
Psalm. 
“O give ye praise unto the Lord, 
All nations that be: 
Likewise ye people all, accord 
His name to magnify. 
For great to us-ward ever are 
His loving kindnesses; 
His truth endures for evermore, 
The Lord I do ye bless.” 


No. 304a 


“I AM WEARY OF MY SIN.” 


In the Christian Work, Henry F. Thompson gives the 
following incident: “I never could understand it. She was 
one of the brightest sweetest, and most amiable young ladies 
I ever knew; and yet she and her mother, who was a widow, 
lived with her grandparents, who, with the mother and an 
only uncle and an only brother, were the roughest people I 
ever knew. And it was not only the exterior that was 
rough. They would swear, and blackguard, and quarrel 
with each other in public or in private. At a certain time, 
when calling at the house, the young lady, at my request, 
sat at the instrument and played and sang. Presently she 
turned to a particular tune, and said: ‘I think this is so 
beautiful,’ and, as she played, sang the accompanying 
words: 


‘I am weary of my sin; 
O, I long for full release; 
Saviour, come and take me in, 
With Thyself to dwell in peace. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 311 


‘I am weary of the earth, 
Where the wicked spurn Thy love; 
With Thy sons of heavenly birth, 
Let me worship Thee above.’ 


Pointing to the words, ‘I am weary of my sin; O, I long for 
full release’; I said, ‘Is that true of you, Mary?’ and while 
the quick tear trembled on the lid, she sweetly answered, 
‘Yes, I want: to follow Jesus.’ I said, ‘for such He waits, 
and will receive and bless them.’ At the next communion 
season she united with the church, and for four years 
adorned her profession; till at the close of a Sabbath 
evening, she was called to join the church above.” 


No. 3085. 


“COME YE DISCONSOLATE, WHERE’ER YE 
LANGUISH.” 


Tuomas Moors, 1779—1852. 


At one time Mr. T. E. Perkins was sitting in the room of 
the Howard Mission, New York, conversing with Rev. Mr. 
Van Meter, when they were interrupted by the entrance of 
a wild-looking man, who exclaimed: “Is Awful Gardner 
here?” 

“No,” replied Mr. Van Meter. 

“Then I am lost,’ said the man in accents of despair. “If 
Awful Gardner was here, he could save me; he would know 
how, because he’s been the same road; but now I am lost”; 
and drawing a bowie-knife from under his vest, he was 
about to plunge it into his bosom, when Mr. Van Meter 
sprang forward and caught his arm. Seeing that it would 
be useless to attempt to wrest the knife from his grasp, Mr. 
Van Meter sought to distract the man’s attention from his 


312 . STORIES OF THE GREAT 


suicidal purpose, but the unfortunate creature was seized 
with a fit of delirium tremens, and became unmanageable. 
Mr. Perkins, not knowing what else to do, sat down at the 
melodion, and began to play and sing: 


- “Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish. 
Come, at God’s altar fervently kneel; 
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; 
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.” 


The effect was magical. The man became sufficiently calm 
for Mr. Van Meter to march him up.and down the room, 
while Mr. Perkins continued to play and sing. After 
finishing the hymn he sang another: 


“Jesus, to Thy dear arms I flee, 
I have no other hope but Thee.” 


The effect was still more marked. After singing that hymn 
through Mr. Perkins commenced: 


“Flee as a bird to your mountain.” 


As the strains of this exquisite composition filled the room, 
the maniac paused, sat down, covered his face with his 
hands, and sobbed like a child, or rather like a broken- 
hearted remorseful man. By this time Mrs. Van Meter, 
who was present when the man first burst into the room, 
came in with a bowl of strong coffee, which she had thought- 
fully made, and as soon as the weeping stranger became 
sufficiently composed she gave it to him. That quieted his 
nerves and renewed his strength, and in a little while he 
became completely restored to the possession of his faculties. 
“Who is this man?” was the question which rose sponta- 
neously to the lips of his deliverer, but all efforts to ascer- 
tain seemed to prove fruitless. He persistently refused to 
give his name, or to furnish any clue to his residence or 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 313 


identity. Mr. Perkins accompanied him to the St. Nicholas 
Hotel, where he took a room under an assumed name. As 
in his conversation he had chanced to mention a clergyman 
in Newport, Rhode Island, whom Mr. Van Meter knew, the 
latter immediately wrote to the clergyman, stating the case. 
The clergyman came by the first: boat, and at once recog- 
nizing the unfortunate man, took him back again to his 
home in Hartford, where, before the period of his dissipa- 
tion, he had been a man of wealth and responsibility. He 
threw off the thralldom of rum, and is now a respected 
Christian man. 


No. 306. 
“ALL PEOPLE THAT ON EARTH DO DWELL.” 


WILLIAM KeETHE. 


A remarkable incident connected with this hymn, is that 
of a Scottish youth, who learned from a pious mother to 
sing the old psalms that were as household words to them 
in the kirk and by the fireside. When he grew up, he wan- 
dered away from his native country, was taken captive by 
the Turks, and made a slave in one of the Barbary States. 
But he never forgot the songs of Zion, although he sang 
them in a strange land and to heathen ears. One night he 
was solacing himself in this manner, when the attention of 
some sailors on board of an English man-of war was directed 
to the familiar tune of “Old Hundred” as it came floating 
over the moonlit waves. At once they surmised the truth 
that one of their countrymen was languishing away his life 
as a captive. Quickly arming themselves they manned a 
boat, and lost no time in effecting his release. 


A celebrated Scotch doctor of divinity was invited to 
preach where no singing was heard but by the choir. He 
gave out to be sung the Hundredth Psalm: 


314 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“All people that on earth do dwell, 
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice, 
Him serve with mirth, His praise forth tell, 
Come ye before Him and rejoice.” 


To the doctor’s surprise, nobody but the choir opened their 
lips, and when they had concluded the performance, he arose 
and good-humoredly said: “The choir has done very well; 
let the congregation and me try it next.” And so saying, he 
raised in fine style, the solemn tune of “Old Hundred.” The 
result was that before the first stanza was ended, the whole 
congregation had caught the enthusiasm of their leader, and 
sent up a very shout of praise to Heaven in the appropriate 
words of the psalm; and they found it to be so heart-stirring 
an experience, when compared with their previous habit of 
being mere listeners, that they never afterward abstained so 
generally from joining in the psalmody. 
JoHN B. Gouau, in Sunlight and Shadow. 


No. 307. 
“THERE IS A HAPPY LAND.” 


ANDREW YouNG, 1807—1889. 


A clergyman relates the following incident: “One day as 
I was busily engaged in my study, a man about half drunk 
very unceremoniously entered and handed me a note from 
the teacher of the infant class of our Sabbath school, in- 
forming me that the bearer was the father of one of her 
scholars, that the child had met with an accident, and that 
they lived in such a place she could not visit them, and she 
wished me to see to it. I looked at the man: he was Irish, 
very repulsive in his appearance, and he answered my ques- 
tions with a rough brogue. ‘What is your name, sir, and 
where do you live?’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 315 


“ “My name is Pater M ; I live on an ould canal boat 
at the fut of Harrison Street. I wint there whin I 
was burnt out; and nobody at all at all has driv me 
out of it.’ 

““And what is the matter with your child?’ 

“‘Och! and is it Kitty, my own little darling Kitty, the 
only child I’ve lift of the six that has been born til me? 
Och! Kitty! she was playing about on a ship where I was: 
til wark, and she fell down the hatchway and broke her leg 
(saving your prisence) and poor Kitty’s leg is not set right, 
your riverence, for I’ve no money til pay the doctor, Och! 
poor Kitty! and I’ve nothing to give her to ate, your 
riverence. 

“Well, Peter, I will come down and see your Kitty, and 
see what can be done for you.’ 

“T did so, and found a wretched state of things. The poor 
little suffering child was overjoyed to see me. I remem- 
bered her countenance—a sweet, mild little girl, not yet five 
years of age. She lay upon the locker or side-seat of an old 
canal boat which had been laid up for the winter. There 
was no fire, though it was a bitter cold day, no chair, no 
bed, no food, scarcely an article of furniture or any comfort 
whatever. I did what I could to relieve the wants of the little 
sufferer. Nothing could be done for the parents: they were 
both confirmed inebriates; and I found they had both been 
drunk the night previous, and in a quarrel had unintention- 
ally knocked the child off the seat and broken the limb after 
it had been set. I obtained the services of a surgeon and 
had the limb set again, and then sat down on the locker to 
talk to little Kitty, and fed her with some nourishing food 
which I had brought. I asked her if she could read., No, 
she could not read a word; ‘but I can sing,’ said she. 

“(What can you sing?’ 

“ ‘Something I learned at Sabbath school.’ 

“ Well, what is it you can sing, Kitty?’ In a moment her 
sweet little voice broke out: 





316 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘There is a happy land, 
Far, far away. 

Where saints in glory stand, 
Bright, bright as day.’ 


““Well, Kitty, that is sweet. Where do you think the 
land of Canaan is, Kitty? 

““Oh, I suppose it is up in the sky, where God lives and 
where the angels live.’ 

“Do you think you will ever go there, Kitty?’ 

““Tf ’'m good, and love God I shall.’ 

“ “Now, Kitty, is there anything else you can sing for me 
before I go?’ 

““Oh, yes, sir: I can sing a little piece of another.’ 

“Well, what is that?’ 


“All who love the Lord below, 
When they die; to heaven will go, 
And sing with saints above, 
Oh! that will be joyful! 
Joyful! joyful! 
Oh! that will be joyful, 
When we meet to part no more!’ 


“Poor Kitty could not read, nor could either of her parents 
read. She knew nothing of heaven and divine things except 
what she had been taught at the Sabbath school, and most 
of what she remembered was associated with the words of 
the hymns she had learned to sing there.” 


No. 308. 
“PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL, THOU NEED’ST NOT FEAR.” 


Rev. Samugen Ecxrine, 1757—1785. 


The late Rev. James Haxley, about the year 1806, was 
sent by a Methodist Conference to itinerate as a missionary 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 317 


in Louisiana, then chiefly inhabited by French Catholics. 
Jimmy, as he was familiarly called, had small expectations 
of comfort without payment; and he seldom possessed any 
money. He was one evening reduced to the very verge of 
starvation: he had spent the preceding night in a swamp, 
and had taken no food for thirty-six hours, when he reached 
a plantation. He entered the house and asked for food and 
lodging. The mistress of the house, a widow, with several 
daughters, and several negro children playing about, recog- 
nized his calling and insultingly refused his request. He 
obtained, however, permission to warm himself for a few 
minutes before the fire. As he sat thus, he felt the demands 
of hunger and sleep, and looked forward to another night in 
the swamp. Feeling this might prove his last night on 
earth, he thought sweetly of the celestial city to which he 
felt he was traveling; his heart swelled with gladness, and 
he cheerfully sang one of his favorite hymns: 


“Peace, troubled soul, thou need’st not fear: 
Thy Great Provider still is near. 
Who fed thee last will feed thee still; 
Be calm, and sink into His will.” 


He sang the whole hymn; and when he looked around him 
the mother, daughters, and negroes were all in tears. “Here, 
Sally,” said the mother, “get the preacher a good supper. 
Peter, put up his horse: he shall stay a week, if he pleases.” 


No. 309. 


“THE MESSIAH.” 


Grorce Freperick Hanne, 1685—1759. 


In the last century, a Hungarian nobleman had lost, under 
the most distressing circumstances, his only child, a beau- 
tiful girl, who was on the eve of marriage. Although two 


318 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


years had elapsed since this bereavement, the unhappy 
father remained in the most melancholy condition. From 
the hour when he had taken the last look at the dead body 
of his child, he had remained in the same room, shedding no 
tears and uttering no complaints, but remaining in a speech- 
less state of despair. The most celebrated physicians had 
been consulted, and every means which could be thought of 
used to rouse the Count from his lethargy of grief ; but all 
in vain, and his physician became hopeless of his recovery. 
Under these circumstances, a member of the family remem- 
bered to have heard the distinguished Elizabeth Mara, for 
ten years the first singer at the Prussian court, sing some 
exquisitely beautiful sacred pieces, and became impressed 
with the thought that, if any sound on earth could reach the 
heart which was already buried in his daughter’s grave, her 
voice, which seemed to be that of an angel rather than that 
of a human being, would have that power. Arrangements 
were at length made for the trial; and, to give every possible 
effect to the powers of the singer, an anteroom, opening into 
that where the Count sat, was prepared. Mara stood alone 
in the foreground, yet in such a position that she could not 
be seen in the next room, which was hung with black, and 
only a faint shadowy twilight admitted, except a few golden 
rays from a small lamp which burned in a niche before a 
beautiful Madonna. Suddenly upon the solitude and silence 
of that sick room there broke a wonderful harmony. Eliza- 
beth had chosen Handel’s “Messiah,” and took her place, 
deeply moved by the singular circumstances under which 
she was called to exert her talents. At first the music and 
that heavenly voice all seemed to be unheeded; but by de- 
grees the desolate parent raised himself on his couch and 
glanced with earnest longing toward the spot whence those 
soul-moving sounds proceeded, At length when Mara sang 
the words, “Look and see if there be any sorrow like to my 
sorrow,” she appeared to be inspired by the sympathy she 
felt; and the relatives of the Count, who listened with beat- 
ing hearts, could not restrain their tears. Nor did these 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 319 


alone bear witness to the singer’s power; happy sighs escaped 
from the sufferer; large tears stood in those eyes which the 
very extremity of grief itself had long forbidden to weep. 
Crossing the room with feeble steps, he prostrated himself 
before the image of that Heavenly One Who bore all our 
griefs; and, when the full choir joined in the Hallelujah 
Chorus, his voice of praise and thanksgiving mingled with 
those strains. The recovery was complete and lasting, and 
was the marvel of all Germany. 


A lady had been in deep despondency for many months. 
Her sins appeared so numerous and aggravated that she 
dared not trust in the promises of the Gospel. These prom- 
ises seemed very precious for others, but could not avail for 
her. Conversations with her minister and with Christian 
friends added to her gloom, instead of dissipating it. She 
attended with great eagerness the means of grace, read her 
Bible almost incessantly at home, and withdrew from all 
gay companions, and even from the most innocent social 
enjoyments. Her health began to suffer from extreme de- 
pression of spirits, and her friends were apprehensive of an 
early death. When she heard that Jenny Lind was to visit 
the city near which she resided, her curiosity was excited 
to hear her. She consulted her minister, and he advised her 
to go on the evening when “The Messiah” was to be sung. 
The rendering of those sublime passages, “I know that my 
Redeemer liveth,” and “Come unto Me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden,” by the Swedish songstress, quite over- 
whelmed her. She was spellbound. The words seemed 
clothed with a fulness of meaning she had never before dis- 
covered. The fitness of Jesus to save sinners, and his in- 
finite condescension and pity, melted her heart. She won- 
dered that she had ever distrusted Him, and with a childlike 
faith threw herself on the promises, knowing that in her 
case they would not fail of fulfilment. From that hour her 
gloom vanished, and she went forward in the path of 
Christian duty with a joyous and obedient heart. 


320 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 310. 
“THERE IS A GOD THAT REIGNS ABOVE.” 


Rey. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


A poor wretched mother, religiously educated, but after- 
ward abandoned to sin and misery, was struck with horror 
at hearing her own child repeat, as soon as she could well 
speak, some of the profane language which she had learned 
from herself. She trembled at the thought that she was not 
only herself traveling to eternal perdition, but was also 
leading her child there. She instantly resolved that with 
the first sixpence she could procure, she would obtain a copy 
of Dr. Watts’ “Divine Songs for Children,” of which she 
had some recollection from the days when she visited the 
Sunday school and would teach them to her infant daughter. 
She soon bought them; and on opening the book her eye 
caught the striking verse: 


“Just as a tree cut down that fell 
To north, or southward, there it lies, 
So man departs to heaven or hell, 
Fix’d in the state wherein he dies.” 


She read on. The Spirit of God impressed the words on her 
heart; the event led to her entire conversion, and she lived 
and died, a consistent professor of the religion of Christ. 
No. 311. 
“TO THEE I LIFT MY SOUL.” 
King James Second was a Papist, and endeavored to com- 


pel his subjects to become Roman Catholics. Under his 
reign, the “Covenanters” of Scotland were persecuted and 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 321 


in many cases driven from their homes to the moors and 
mountain gorges, where alone they could worship the God 
of their fathers in safety. And even in these retreats they 
were not safe, for the spies of the king followed them, and 
if any were caught attending meetings or conventicles, they 
were arrested and punished. Margaret Wilson of Wigton, 
a girl of eighteen years, with her sister Agnes, a child of 
thirteen, was in the habit of attending these meetings. 
Being informed on by a young man whom they took to be 
a friend, they were thrown into prison. The terror-stricken 
father, alarmed for the safety of his children, hastened to 
Edinburgh, and by paying a heavy sum, obtained the libera- 
tion of the younger daughter, but Margaret they would not 
release. With an older woman named Margaret Lachlan, 
she was condemned to be drowned for attending field and 
house meetings, and on the morning of May 11, 1665, the 
sentence was executed. They were tied to stakes between 
high and low water, so that when the tide should come in 
they would be drowned. The old woman was placed farthest 
out, so that the tide should reach her first, and that the 
sight of her struggles might perhaps terrify the other and 
lead her to recant, but she was faithful unto death. As the 
waters rose about her, she sang this psalm: 


“To Thee I lift my soul, 
O Lord I trust in Thee; 
My God let me not be ashamed, 
Nor foes triumph o’er me.” 


No. 312. 
“GO ON, GO ON, GO ON, GO ON.” 
Dr. Stephen Fish gives the following account of a hymn 


of one word. He says: “Many Bedouin Arabs have em- 
braced the Christian religion. Mr. M. Roysce, of Jerusalem, 


322 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


gave me a very interesting account of the conversion of an 
Arab whom he knew to be a poet. Soon after he was con- 
verted, Mr. Roysce was anxious to see if he would write 
religious poetry. He requested him to court the Muses, and 
compose for him a poem on the duties of a Christian Mis- 
sionary. He did so and wrote the following: 


‘Taiyib, taiyib, taiyib, taiyib, 
Taiyib, taiyib, taiyib, 
Taiyib, taiyib, taiyib, taiyib, 
Taiyib, taiyib, taiyib.’ 


Any trivial sentiment would not have borne repeating so 
many times, but the translation of ‘Taiyib’ is ‘Go on,’ and 
the Arab, zealous in his new life, could think of nothing but 
going ahead in it and growing better and better.” 

Christian Standard. 


No. 318. 
“IN EVIL LONG I TOOK DELIGHT.” 


Rev. Joun Newton, 1725—1807. 


Many of Newton’s hymns are autobiographic, and this is 
one of that class. He seemed to delight in calling attention 
to his own early profligacy and wickedness, but it was only 
for the purpose of giving greater emphasis to some following 
declaration of the mercy and grace which could stoop to 
save so vile a wretch. This purpose is exhibited in the last 
stanza of this hymn: 


“Thus while His death my sin displays 
In all its blackest hue, 
Such is the mystery of grace 
It seals my pardon too.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 323 


Newton prepared an epitaph which he requested should be 
used for himself after his death. It read as follows: 

“John Newton, Clerk; once an Infidel and Libertine; A 
servant of slaves in Africa was by the rich mercy of our 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, par- 
doned, and appointed to preach the faith he had long 
labored to destroy,” ete. 

Here again in his epitaph as in so many of his hymns; 
this contrast is shown of God’s “rich mercy” over against 
his own great sinfulness. 


No. 314. 
“AND THEY SANG A NEW SONG.” Revelation 5:9. 


One of the ministers of Leicester, England, in relating 
some pleasing incidents in connection with his pastoral 
work, gives the following: “On visiting one of the courts 
of the town, I was requested by one of the poor people to 
call on an old woman who had been bedridden for some 
years, and who lived in the neighborhood. On reaching the 
cottage, and finding no response to my knocking at the door, 
I walked in and went to the foot of the stairs, when I soon 
heard a faint voice requesting whoever it was to come up. 
In a small room at the top there lay an aged but cheerful 
invalid. I told her that I had been requested to call, and 
that I was a minister of the gospel. She replied, ‘Well, then, 
you are just the visitor I want, and you are come at the 
right time; and taking up her hymn book, which lay upon 
the bed, said: ‘Now, I have been searching for a long time 
to see if I can find a hymn that will do to sing in Heaven 
and I cannot. Now, can you?’ 

“T took the bodk and found, ‘There is a land of pure 
delight.’ ‘Surely that will do?’ 

“Well, go on,’ she said; ‘read the hymn through.’ 

“Presently I came to ‘Death like a narrow sea divides.’ 
‘Ah,’ she said, ‘that won’t do.’ 


324 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“T then mentioned, ‘There is a fountain filled with blood.’ 
““Go on,’ she said. I then read the last verse: 


‘Then in a nobler, sweeter song, 
I'll sing Thy power to save, 

When this poor lisping, stammering tongue 
Lies silent in the grave.’ 


““That won’t do,’ she said, smilingly: ‘mine shan’t be a 
poor lisping, stammering tongue there.’ I found others, but 
all to no purpose. 

““No, no dear sir, shut the book; there will have to be a 
hew one made.’ ‘And they sang a new song.’ ” 


No. 8168. 
“PILGRIM, BURDENED WITH THY SIN”—1785. 


Rev. Grorce Crappe, 1754—1832. 


It is quite curious to note from what surroundings some 
of our hymns have been transferred to our song collections. 
In the year 1785, there appeared in England a volume of 
poems by the Reverend George Crabbe, a clergyman of the 
Church of England. The pieces were all of a secular char- 
acter. Among them was a poem entitled, “Sir Eustace 
Grey.” It tells the story of a man, Sir Eustace Grey, who 
passes through the experiences of a prosperous, worldly man, 
loses his wealth and his family, and lands in a mad house. 
Here he tells to a physician and a visitor the story of his 
life, his prosperous days, the loss of property and the death 
of dear ones, the wanderings in ways of vice, the sorrows of 
heart and the troubles of mind, until at last, as the poem 
relates, he “heard an heavenly Father speak and felt the 
Sun of Mercy shine.” “TI hailed the Light,” he says, “the 
Birth Divine! and then was sealed among the few!” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 325 


“Now hark! the holy strains begin, 
And thus the sainted Preacher cries, 
‘Pilgrim burthened with thy sin,’”’ ete. 


The hymn is a literary curiosity. The fourth line of each 
stanza contains four words, with one of which each of the 
four following lines begins. 


No, 316. 
“ONLY WAITING TILL THE SHADOWS.” 


Miss Frances Lavcuton, 1836. 


An old pauper in an almshouse was asked, “What are you 
doing now?” “Only waiting!” was his reply. A school girl 
in a little town in Maine heard the story of the old pauper’s 
reply, and made it the title of a little poem, which she sent 
to the local paper of the town near by. The words were 
copied from paper to paper, and soon found their way into 
the hymn books. One stanza is usually omitted. Here it is: 


“Only waiting till the angels 

Open wide the mystic gate 

At whose feet I long have lingered 
Weary, poor, and desolate. 

Even now I hear their footsteps, 
And their voices far away. 

If they call me I am waiting, 
Only waiting to obey.” 


No. 317. 


“BEFORE JEHOVAH’S AWFUL THRONE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748 


The singing of this hymn at the Music Hall in Surrey 
Garden, London, is thus described: “An audience of eight 


326 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


to ten thousand people were worshiping under the guidance 
of Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon. The prayer concluded, Mr. 
Spurgeon announced the well-known hymn beginning: 


‘Before Jehovah’s awful throne.’ 


He read it through, having first announced that the tune 
would be the ‘Old Hundredth,’ and then read each verse sep- 
arately before it was sung. It is scarcely possible to give 
any idea of the sublime effect produced by those ten thou- 
sand voices, as they swelled the massive harmonies of that 
grand tune with a fulness of sound rarely heard. After 
singing the second verse, Mr. Spurgeon said: ‘I will read 
the third verse, and you will sing the fourth; and let the 
uplifting of your voices be as the sound of many waters.’ 
His audience responded to his wish. The words were: 


‘We'll crowd Thy gates with thankful songs, 
High as the heavens our voices raise; 

And earth, with her ten thousand tongues, 
Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise. 


‘Wide as the world is Thy command; 
Vast as eternity Thy love; 

Firm as a rock Thy truth shall stand, 
When rolling years shall cease to move.’ 


Most magnificent was the shout of praise that now went 
up. Not a voice was mute, save where occasionally some- 
one’s nerves were overpowered by the massive rolling chorus 
that rose on every side. Never did we before realize what 
congregational singing might become. It was an uplifting 
of voice and heart such as one can hope to hear only a few 
times in a lifetime. Much of this grand effect was no doubt 
owing to the majesty of the tune itself; much to the fact 
that all the congregation knew it; and perhaps not a little 
to the practice of reading each verse before it was sung.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 327 


. No. 318. 
“HERE O’ER THE EARTH A STRANGER I ROAM.” 


A collier in Staffordshire had one dear little girl, the last 
of four or five. This child was the light of his eyes; and 
as he came from the pit at night, she used to meet him at 
the door of his cot to welcome him home. One day when 
he came in to his dinner, he missed his little darling, and 
going into the house with his heavy coal-pit clogs, his wife 
called him upstairs. The stillness of the place and her quiet 
voice made his heart’ sick, and a foreboding of evil came 
upon him. His wife told him they were going to lose their 
little lamb; she had had a convulsive fit and the doctor said 
she could not live. As the tears made furrows down his 
black face, and he leaned over his darling, she said: “Daddy, 
sing ‘Here is no rest.’ ” 

“No, my child, I cannot sing; I’m choking; I can’t sing.” 

“Oh! do, daddy, sing ‘Here is no rest.’ ” 

The poor fellow tried to sing: 


“Here o’er the earth as a stranger I roam, 
Here is no rest, here is no rest!” 


But his voice could make no way against his trouble. Then 
he tried again, for he wanted to please his sweet little girl. 


“Here are afflictions and trials severe, 
Here is no rest, here is no rest! 
Here I must part with the friends I hold dear, 
Yet I am blest, yet I am blest!” 


Again his voice was choked with weeping; but the little one 


whispered, “Come, daddy, sing, ‘Sweet is the promise’ ”’; 
and the poor father went on again: 


328 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Sweet is the promise I read in His Word; 
Blessed are those who have died in the Lord, 
They have been called to receive their reward, 
There, there is rest! there, there is rest.” 


“That’s it, daddy!” cried the child; “that’s it”; and with 
her arms around the collier’s neck, she died happy in the 
Lord. 


No. 319. 
JESUS, I MY CROSS HAVE TAKEN.” 


Rev. Henry F. Lyte, 1793—1847. 


Rey. George F. Pentecost gives the following from his own 
experience: “A year or two after I entered the ministry, I 
passed through an experience that on the dark side of it 
culminated in leading me to believe not only that I had 
been mistaken in supposing that God had called me to the 
work of the ministry, but also that I was even mistaken in 
supposing that I was a Christian at all. Oh! the blackness 
and darkness of those hours! I cannot portray the dense 
gloom that gathered about my soul, and was fairly pressing 
me down to hell. In this fearful state of mind, having 
almost yielded up to despair, I was returning to my home 
from a neighboring town where I had been assisting a min- 
isterial brother in a protracted meeting. I got aboard the 
train, flung myself into a seat next a window of the car, 
and made another desperate effort to recover myself, my 
faith, my hope, my confidence in God. I prayed in spirit, 
I even called aloud on God, unmindful of the people around 
me; I went over the promises, and searched my memory 
through for some word of the Lord that could bring me 
help. But God’s Word was a silent and sealed book to me, 
and my heart seemed to be turning into stone. In the 
midst of this wretchedness I was looking out of the car 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH © 329 


window up into the starlit heavens, and wondering if there 
was a God, if there was any Jesus, any Christ, if there was 
any hereafter. While thus gazing into the dimly lighted 
darkness without, from out of the midnight darkness within, 
with only a numb sense of my own wretchedness, as a man 
might feel who knows he is freezing to death without power 
to help himself, and, indeed; not caring to any longer, 
because it seems easier to die, I heard the low voice of sing- 
ing in my heart; I say I heard the voice of singing within 
me, and hearkening I caught the words of it, and with my 
own lips in low tremulous tones began to sing: 


‘Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave and follow Thee; 
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, 
Thou from hence my all shalt be;’ 


I wondered at myself, and at the song; I found my heart 
softening; I knew that tears were in my eyes; I felt them 
running down my cheeks; I was away back with Jesus on 
the Cross; I heard His ery, ‘My God! My God! why hast 
Thou forsaken me?’ and in that same moment the Holy 
Ghost gave me fellowship with my Saviour, and I knew that 
ery from Him was not for Himself alone, but for me. I 
sang on through the hymn with still melting heart, with 
returning faith, hope, and confidence, until in a perfect 
ecstasy of peace I reached the lines: 


‘O ’tis not in grief to harm me, 
While Thy love is left to me; 

O ’twere not in joy to charm me, 
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.’ 


And then like a comforted child, I fairly laid my weary 
heart against His dear loving heart, knowing in my soul that 
He loved me, that He died and rose again for me, that He’ 
lived for me and that as never before we were united to 


330 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


each other. Thus that precious hymn was God’s hand 
reached out to save me when I was sinking; thus He was 
pleased to manifest Himself to me in a sweeter, surer, and 
stronger way than I had yet known Him. He had chosen 
to do this by, and in, a hymn, rather than by prayer, or 
meditation, or promise. As the cake baked on the coals 
and the cruse of water at his head were to Elijah, so was 
that hymn to me.” 


There is a story told of a young lady in England, who 
was much persecuted by her father because she had em- 
braced the religion of Christ. Seeking to divert her mind 
he gave her a song to sing and play, commencing: 


“Go, forget me, why should sorrow.” 
(See “Our Familiar Songs,” p. 243.) 


To his surprise and discomfiture, she sang the hymn to the 
tune “‘Ellesdie.” 


“Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave and follow Thee.” 


No. 320. 
“FROM DEAR NEW ENGLAND’S HAPPY SHORE.” 


Perhaps one of the most interesting and touching inci- 
dents connected with the history of singing occurred at the 
separation from each other of thirty students at the 
Andover Theological Seminary in 1832. A question was 
proposed by a single finely toned voice from the orchestra, 
and a response was made from the stage on which the gradu- 
ating class stood—first by the Foreign Missionaries, then 
by the Domestic Missionaries, and finally by the Home 
Preachers; then followed the chorus from the whole. The 
whole service was as follows: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 331 


Question: “And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 
Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Isaiah 6:8. 
Those who were to go as foreign missionaries replied: 


“From dear New England’s happy shore, 
— Where all our kindred dwell, 
We go,—on pagans, light to pour: 
Our native land, farewell!” 


Question: “And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 
Whom shal! I send, and who will go for us?” Those who 
were to go as home missionaries then replied: 


“We go where seldom on the ear 
Salvation’s tidings swell: 
We go to dry the mourner’s tear: 
Our pleasant home, farewell.” 


Question: “And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, 
Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” Those who 
were to become home preachers then replied: 


“Where all our earthly friendships blend, 
Of Jesus’ love we’ll tell, 

And in the work our lives will spend: 
Brethren, a short farewell.” 


All then joined in the following chorus: 


“From all these cherished scenes we go, 
The home of praise and prayer, 
To meet earth’s gladness or earth’s woe, 
And many a toil to bear. 


“Farewell ye friends who shared our joy, 
Ye in whose hearts we dwell: 
A noble work shall now employ 
Our energies, farewell! 


332 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Brethren, we press the parting hand: 
Our songs of parting tell: 
Then, till we reach heaven’s holy land, 
A sweet but brief farewell!” 


The whole presented an extraordinary scene. The audi- 
ence felt that it was not a mere show, not an exhibition of 
musical skill. The tones in which the hymn was sung were 
those of deep emotion; and many hearts were melted as 
these young servants of Christ poured forth their impas- 
sioned farewell—some of them to the scenes of their sacred 
studies, others to the pleasant hills and valleys and churches 
of New England, and others to all the endearments of their 
native land. 


No. 321. 
“PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW.” 


BisHop THomMAs Kenn, 1637—1711. 


In the year 1858, a thousand gentlemen were seated at 
the collegiate dinner-table at Andover, Massachusetts, when 
the unexpected news was received of the successful laying 
of the Atlantic cable. The whole assembly arose from their 
seats spontaneously and in the majestic sounds of “Old 
Hundred” sang the fine words of Bishop Kenn: 


“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow; 
Praise Him, all creatures here below; 
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!” 


During the Peninsular campaign several of us (says a cor- 
respondent of one of the public journals) were sitting in 
our tent a few hours after sunset, on Sabbath evening, when 
one of the number, laying his hand on my knee, suddenly 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 333 


exclaimed, “Hark, what is that?” In an instant the talking 
ceased, and every ear was bent forward to catch the sound 
which had fixed the attention of our comrade. A silence 
ensued for a moment and then there was wafted across the 
air the music of that glorious anthem “Old Hundred,” in 
which it seemed as if a thousand voices participated. All 
of us immediately sought the open air, and there stood until 
the last note died away upon the ear. Never before had we 
heard anything so magnificently grand as this same “Old 
Hundred” sung by the soldiers of the Union army on the 
plains of Yorktown. The air was made vocal with the 
music, and the woods around reverberated with the mighty 
strain. Beneath the canopy of heaven the soldiers gazed 
upward into the starlit sky, and sang, all with one voice: 


“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow; 
Praise Him, all creatures here below; 
Praise Him above ye heavenly host ; 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.” 


It was solemn, soul-stirring, to hear these words thus 
chanted that have so often stirred the holiest emotions 
of man’s heart. It was a scene not unfitted to inspire the 
genius of a Christian poet or artist. 


No. 322. 
“HOW PLEASANT ’TIS TO SEE.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Three men became hopefully pious about the same time. 
They were neighbors, heads of families, and singers. For 
a season they lived in love and exhibited in their lives the 
graces of the Holy Spirit. During this period they often 
united in sweetly singing the praises of God. But as one 


334 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


of them was once passing the house of another, he heard 
loud words and found his friends in angry dispute. He went 
into the house, and began by saying, “Come, neighbors, let 
us sing one of our favorite hymns: 


‘How pleasant ’tis to see 
Kindred and friends agree!’ ”’ 


_They became silent, looked first at him and then at each 
other, and then one joined the singing. The other very soon 
followed his example, and the three neighbors sang harmoni- 
ously together as usual, till all their angry passions were 
lulled to sleep. They parted in peace, and ever after lived 
in harmony. In this instance, at least, a hymn was better 
than an exhortation. 


No. 323. 
“Q GOD, WHY HAST THOU CAST US OFF?” 


Psaum 74. Scotch. 


This Psalm was sung by the Covenanters before the fight 
at Pentland (Rullion Green), November 28, 1666. Goaded 
by oppression they had come from the west country in arms 
to present a remonstrance to the Government. They ap- 
proached Edinburgh in the hope of a hearing,.and of sup- 
port from their friends there; but a strong force had been 
collected to overawe them. A minute and interesting account 
is given by Veitch, in his memoir, of the retreat of the 
weary, discouraged, and half-armed remnant by Colinton, 
along the east side of the Pentlands. They were inter- 
cepted by General Dalziel, through a pass in the hills near 
Glencorse, and sang this psalm before the action. They 
made a brave resistance, successful at first, but were at last 
broken. -The fugitives were slaughtered with great bar- 
barity, the captured shut up in Greyfriars churchyard, with- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 335 


out food or shelter, numbers executed and banished to the 
Plantations. The graves of some of the slain may be seen 
on the hillside where they fell, and a monument which has 
faith and truth in its lines if rude in rhyme. 


“A cloud of witnesses lie here, 

Who for Christ’s interests did appear; 
And to restore true liberty, 

O’erturned then by tyranny, 

These heroes fought with great renown, 
By falling got the martyr’s crown.” 


No. 324. 
“A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD.” 


Rev. Martin Lutuer, 1483—1546. 


In 1720, a remarkable revival began in Moravia, in a 
town where David Nitschmann lived. The Jesuits opposed 
it, and the meetings were prohibited. Those who still assem- 
bled were seized and imprisoned in stables and cellars and 
foul outhouses. At Nitschmann’s house a hundred and fifty 
persons were once gathered when the police broke in and 
seized all the books within reach. Nothing dismayed, the 
congregation struck up the stanza of Luther’s hymn: 


“And though this world, with devils filled, 
Should threaten to undo us; 
We will not fear, for God hath willed 
His truth to triumph through us. 
“The Prince of darkness grim— 
We tremble not for him; 
His rage we can endure, 
For lo! his doom is sure, 
One little word shall fell him.” 


336 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Twenty heads of families, including David Nitschmann, 
were apprehended for this and sent to jail, Nitschmann 
being treated with special severity. He finally escaped; 
fled to the Moravians at Herrnhut; became a bishop, and 
afterward joined the Wesleys, in 1735, in their expedition 
to Savannah, Georgia. ; 

Rev. S. W. DuFFIEp. 


No. 325. 
“TO US SALVATION NOW HAS COME.” 
“ES IST DAS HEIL UNS KOMMEN HER.” 


Rev. Paut Speratus, 1484—1551. 


At Heidelberg the Reformation made its way by singing. 
Fearing the Emperor, the Elector Frederick did not sup- 
press the saying of the mass as soon as the people desired; 
and so on one occasion, just as the priest was about to begin 
_ the service standing at the high altar, a single voice led off 
in the singing of Paul Speratus’ famous hymn: 


“To us salvation now has come, 
God’s wondrous grace revealing; 

Works never can avert our doom— 
They have no power of healing. 

Faith looks to God’s beloved Son, 

Who has for us deliverance won, 
He is our great Redeemer!” 


The vast congregation immediately joined, and the Elector 
taking the hint, mass was said no more. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 337 
No. 326. 
“QO GOD, LOOK DOWN FROM HEAVEN WE PRAY.” 
“ACH GOTT, VON HIMMEL SIEH DAREIN.” 


Rev. Martin Lutruer, 1483—1546. 


In the year 1529, a Romish priest was preaching at 
Liibeck, and just as he ended his homily, two boys com- 
menced singing Luther’s hymn: 


“CQ God look down from heaven, we pray, 
Thy tenderness awaken! 
Thy saints so few, fade fast away— 
Hast Thou Thy poor forsaken? 
Thy word no more is taught aright, 
And faith from earth hath vanished quite— 
O Lord, our God, revive us!” 


when the whole assembly joined as with one voice, drowning 
the voice of the priest with the song of Luther. 

In 1527, the Council at Brunswick requested a priest at 
Magdeburg, who was regarded as a very learned and elo- 
quent man, to resist the new doctrine of Luther, which was 
rushing as a flood over the country. He took for his 
subject the merit of good work in securing salvation. One 
of the hearers arose, and said he had learned quite a dif- 
ferent doctrine from Holy Scriptures, and briefly stated his 
views as to salvation by grace. When he had finished, the 
priest was commencing to reply, and to reaffirm the doctrine 
of merits, when another of the audience began singing: 


“O God, look down from heaven, we pray, 
Thy tenderness awaken!” 


The whole congregation immediately joined, and the priest 
was compelled to retire. 


338 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 327. 
“ARISE, MY SOUL, ARISE.” 


Rev. CHartes WEsLEy, 1708—1788. 


One of the best incidents connected with this hymn is 
that of the missionaries who went to Patagonia. When 
Richard Williams and Captain Allen Gardiner attempted, 
in December, 1850, to carry the Gospel to Patagonia, they 
encountered a series of disasters which were simply heart- 
rending, and which culminated in the death of the whole 
party. They had nets but found no fish; they lost their 
anchor and both their small boats at Picton Island; of 
the larger boats, one was wrecked and became unseaworthy ; 
the natives were hostile, and were always crying, “Yammer 
schooner!”—“Give me!”’ The company consisted of Cap- 
tain Allen Gardiner and Dr. Richard Williams; and of 
John Maidment and Joseph Irwin, a carpenter, together 
with three Cornish fishermen, Pearce, Badcock, and Bryant. 
All were devoted Christians, and in spite of the fact that 
their ammunition had been forgotten and left on board 
the ship that brought them, they hoped to establish their 
mission. But disease set in. Williams and Badcock 
were attacked by scurvy. Provisions grew scarce. They 
changed their camp several times without improving 
their prospects. They had great difficulty in forming 
friendly relations with the Fuegians. And at last they 
were reduced to the dire necessity of waiting for help 
to come from England or the Falkland Islands. As a 
matter of judgment, it would have been much better if they 
had attempted to make the voyage to the Islands in 
their solitary boat, than to wait on hopelessly; but they 
preferred to remain where they were. Both Captain Gar- 
diner and Dr. Williams kept diaries, which were afterward 
found. From these we learned the short sad story of their 
terrible privations and suffering, and that Maidment and 
Gardiner were probably the last survivors. The fatal 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 339 


entry is on September 6, and is in Captain Gardiner’s 
hand: “I neither hunger nor thirst, though five days 
without food! Marvellous loving kindness to me a sinner!” 

This hymn was the parting song of John Badcock, the 
first who died. Lying by Richard Williams’ side, in the 
narrow and leaky cabin of the Speedwell, he asked his 
companion to sing this hymn with him, and in a few minutes 
he passed away. Her Majesty’s ship, Dido, commanded by 
Captain Moreshead, reached Banner Cove, January 19, 
1852, and found the bodies of Captain Gardiner and Mr. 
Maidment in the cabin which had served as their shelter. 
The outcome of this self-sacrifice has been the establish- 
ment, in 1872, of a permanent mission station at Ushuwia, 
Tierra del Fuego, with mission operations in Patagonia 
and among the Araucanian Indians. Professor Christlieb, 
in his “Foreign Missions,” 1880, tells us that some Pesherehs 
of Fuegia had declared to the missionary, Mr. Whaits, that 
they now understood why Captain Gardiner had taken such 
trouble with them, and they deeply regretted their indiffer- 
ence to him. 

Rev. S. W. DUFFIELD. 


No. 328. 


“BEFORE JEHOVAH’S AWFUL THRONE.” 
Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A notable incident in connection with this hymn was 
its use at the time when Commodore Perry’s fleet was 
anchored off Japan in 1853-1854. Divine Service was held 
on the flagship, and the chaplain, in full sight of thousands 
upon the shore, gave out this hymn to be sung. The marine 
band struck up the notes of “Old Hundred,” and the natives 
of the empire where Christian civilization was to have 
such power beheld the religious worship of the nation which 


was knocking at their gates. 
Durriety’s English Hymns. 


340 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 829. 
“BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS.” 


Rev. JoHN Fawcett. 


D. L. Moody relates the following: “In 1860, I had in my 
Sunday school a pale, delicate young man as one of the 
teachers. I knew his burning piety, and assigned him to 
the worst class in the school. They were all girls, and it 
was an awful class. They kept gadding around in the 
school-room and were laughing and carrying on all the 
time. And this young man had better success than any 
one else. One Sunday he was absent, and I tried myself 
to teach the class, but couldn’t do anything with them; 
they seemed farther off than ever from any concern about 
their souls. Well, the day after his absence, early Monday 
morning, the young man came into the store where I 
worked, and, tottering and bloodless, threw himself down 
on some boxes. 

““What’s the matter?’ I asked. 

““T have been bleeding at the lungs, and they have given 
me up to die,’ he said. 

““But you are not afraid to die?’ I questioned. 

““No,’ said he, ‘I am not afraid to die, but I have 
got to stand before God and give an account of my steward- 
ship, and not one of my Sunday school scholars has been 
brought to Jesus. I have failed to bring one, and haven’t 
any strength to do it now.’ 

“He was so weighed down that I got a carriage and took 
that dying man in it, and we called at the home of every 
one of his scholars, and to each one he said, as best his 
faint voice would let him, ‘I have come to just ask you 
to come to the Savior,’ and then he prayed as I never heard 
before. And for ten days he labored in that way, some- 
times walking to the nearest houses, and at the end of that 
ten days every one of that large class had yielded to the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 341 


Savior. Full well-do I remember the night before he went 
away (for the doctors said he must hurry to the South) 
how we held a true love feast. It was the very gate of 
‘heaven, that meeting. He prayed, and they prayed; he 
didn’t ask them, he didn’t think they could pray; and then 
we sang: 
‘Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love, 
The fellowship of Christian minds, 
Is like to that above.’ 


“Tt was a beautiful night in June that he left on the 
Michigan Southern, and I was down to the train to help 
him off. And those girls gathered there again, every one, 
all unknown to each other, and the depot seemed a second 
gate to heaven, in the joyful, yet tearful communion and 
farewells between those newly redeemed souls and him 
whose crown of rejoicing it will be that he led them to 
Jesus. At last the gong sounded, and, supported on the 
platform, the dying man shook hands with every one, and 
whispered, ‘I will meet you yonder.’ ” 


In the life of Rev. Charles Hodge, D.D., it is related 
by his son, Rev. A. A. Hodge, that “From about 1868 to 
the year of his death (1878), each eraduating class, at the 
very last, took a special personal farewell of Dr. Hodge. 
After receiving their diplomas, and the valedictory charge, 
and benediction of the representative of the Board of 
Trustees, the class formed in a circle with Dr. Hodge in 
the center, in the middle of the front campus. They sang 
(at least in April, 1869) several verses of the hymn, ‘All 
hail the power of Jesus’ name,’ and the verse of the mission- 
ary hymn beginning, ‘Shall we whose souls are lighted.’ 
Then making a close ring each one crossing his arms, they 
held hand by hand, and sang, ‘Blest be the tie that binds,’ 
and then the long meter Doxology. After that Dr. Hodge 
pronounced the benediction. He then shook hands with 


342 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


each student, and each student shook hands with all the 
others, and they separated.” 


No. 330. 
“O LORD, THOU HAST REJECTED US.” 


Psalm 60, Scotch. 


Rev. Ebenezer Erskine was Moderator of the Synod of 
Perth and Stirling, and one of the leaders of those who 
protested against the action of the Scotch Presbyterian 
Church Synod, which at last ended in the “Secession” of 
a part of that body and the organization of the “Secession 
Church.” When in 1740, he was driven from his church, 
he took his place with an immense multitude below the 
battlements of Stirling Castle and sang the first five verses 
of this psalm: 


“O Lord, Thou hast rejected us, 
And scattered us abroad; 
Thou justly hast displeased been; 
Return to us, O God. 


“The earth to tremble, Thou hast made: 
Therein did’st breaches make: 
Do Thou thereof the breaches heal, 
Because the land doth shake. 


“Unto Thy people Thou hard things 
Hast shew’d and on them sent; 
And Thou hast caused us to drink 

Wine of astonishment. 


“And yet a banner Thou hast giv’n 
To them who Thee do fear; 
That it by them because of truth, 
Displayed may appear. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 343 


“That. Thy beloved people may 
Delivered be from thrall; 
Save with the pow’r of Thy right hand, 
And hear me when I call.” 


No. 331. 
“COME THOU ALMIGHTY KING.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


During the Revolutionary War, and while the British 
had possession of Long Island, a body of troops invaded 
a place of worship one Sunday morning and insisted that 
the congregation should sing “God save the King.” In 
reply the people did sing, but it was another set of words 
‘to the same tune: 


“Come, Thou-.Almighty King, 
Help us Thy name to sing, 
Help us to praise; 
Father all-glorious, 
O’er all victorious, 
Come and reign over us, 
Ancient of days.” 


No. 3832. 
“HOW CONDESCENDING AND HOW KIND.” > 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


The Rev. J. Leifchild tells how he was once invited to 
preach in Berkshire, in a straggling village where there 


344 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was very little of the gospel ever heard. The rough element 
of the place was greatly against the service. Shouts and 
disturbance attended the opening of the meeting, and a 
large haystack, the property of his host, was set on fire. 
But Leifchild persevered and opened the service with a 
somewhat motley crowd of hearers by reading the Scripture 
in a solemn and earnest manner. Then he offered prayer, 
and felt as though he had secured somewhat of the sympathy 
of his audience. He next read the hymn commencing as 
above, and especially emphasized certain words in one of 
the stanzas as follows: 


“Here we receive repeated seals 
Of Jesus’ dying love: 
Hard is the heart that never feels 
One soft affection move.” 


As he read he heard a dull noise near the door like that 
of a heavy weight falling. At the close of the meeting, 
he asked about it—when a man was pointed out who 
came forward and acknowledged that it was caused by 
a great stone which he had brought in his hand in order 
to hurl it at the preacher when he announced his text. 
“But,” he said, “the prayer of the minister, and particularly 
the hymn that was read, touched my heart, and no sooner, 
sir, had you uttered the words: 


‘Hard is the heart that never feels 
One soft affection move,’ 


than down dropped the stone.” With tears in his eyes he 
then stayed to converse with the clergyman, and at length 
became a truly devout person, and was even a religious 
teacher in later years. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 345 
No. 333. 
“HOW SAD OUR STATE BY NATURE IS.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


In Dr. Spencer’s ‘“Pastor’s Sketches” occurs this incident 
connected with this hymn. He had given out the hymn to 
be sung, forgetting the possible effect it might have upon the 
mind of a young woman among his congregation then under 
deep anxiety of mind. The account proceeds: “The next 
day she came to tell me that she had made a new discovery. 

“Well,” said I, “what is that you have discovered?” 

“Why, sir,” said she, “the way of salvation all seems 
to me now perfectly plain. My darkness is all gone. I 
see now what I never saw before.” 

“Do you see that you have given up sin and the world, 
and given your whole heart to Christ?” | 

“T do not think that I am a Christian; but I have never 
been so happy before. All is light to me now. I see the 
way clear; and I am not burdened and troubled as I 
was.” 

“And how is this? What has brought you to this state 
of mind?” 

“T do not know how it is, or what has brought me to it. 
But when you were reading that hymn last night, I saw 
the whole way of salvation for sinners perfectly plain, 
and wondered that I had never seen it before. I saw that 
I had nothing to do but trust in Christ. 


‘A guilty, weak and helpless worm, 
On Thy kind arms I fall.’ 


I sat all the evening just looking at that hymn. I did not 
hear your prayer. I did not hear a word of your sermon. 
I do not know your text. I thought of nothing but that 
hymn; and I have been thinking of it ever since. It is 


346 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


so light and makes me so contented. Why, sir,” said she, 
in the perfect simplicity of her heart, never thinking that 
she was repeating what had been told her a thousand times, 
“don’t you think that the reason that we do not get out of 
darkness sooner is that we don’t believe?” 


No. 834. 
“’M NOT ASHAMED TO OWN MY LORD.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


In relating the account of a visit paid to a minister much 
broken in health, Dr. Leifchild says: “I found but the 
wreck and remnant only of what I had formerly known 
him to be. . . . He seemed wholly taken up with 
trifles and was muttering a request for sweetmeats, as 
though he were in reality again a child. I was confounded 
and appalled at what I saw and exclaimed: ‘What, my old 
friend, do you not know me?’ 

“He gave no response, but simply repeated his former 
request. One of his daughters then said to me: ‘Ask him 
something about the Scriptures or the Savior, and you will 
soon see a difference.’ 

“Upon this, I said to him as if complainingly: ‘Well, 
I see you do not know me; do you know Jesus, Whom 
I serve in the Gospel?’ 

“He started and looked as if just aroused from sleep; 
when, lifting up his eyes, he exclaimed: 


‘Jesus, my God, I know His name; 
His name is all my trust; 

Nor will He put my soul to shame, 
Nor let my hope be lost!’ ” 


The Rev. Dr. Marks, after one of the battles on the 
Peninsula, in which some of the Union men were captured, 
gave himself up as a prisoner to the rebels that he might 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 347 


not be separated from those over whom he watched as a 
religious guide, On one occasion, he went on to the Brackett 
House, on the battlefield, where were four hundred and fifty 
of our wounded men. The flag of the country was printed on 
one of the publications which he was distributing; and 
he mentions that he often saw those mutilated men lift 
it to their lips and kiss the emblem of our nationality, 
undeterred by the presence and taunts of the enemy. There 
was one remarkable man in that group of sufferers, whose 
-story, as recounted by this gentleman, deserves to be told 
from one age to another. His name was Nolan. His right 
leg had been cut off by a cannon shot, and he was lying 
in the midst of fifty or sixty men in one of the rooms. 
As I came up to him, I saw that his face was beaming with 
smiles, and, from his appearance, I could not have supposed 
for a moment that there was a single pang of pain in 
that body. I asked him how he had endured his suffering. 
He said, “I was three days and three nights out on the 
battlefield, and all that time heard the whisperings of 
angels, and I only could look up to the stars and think 
every one of them sang to me. The question of my own 
personal safety, as a believer in Christ, was settled six 
years ago; and now I want that all my friends should 
feel as I do.” And then there would burst forth from his 
lips that sweet song: 


“Jesus, my God! I know His name; 
His name is all my trust; 

Nor will He put my soul to shame 
Nor let my hope be lost.” 


And this man, even in the midnight hour, would be singing 
and comforting those poor men around him. Subsequently, 
he was carried to Richmond, a prisoner. I followed my 
charge to that city. And as I was one day passing through 
the great hall of the prison, where some four hundred men 
were lying, with their wounds in agony, covering every 


348 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


inch of the floor, as I stepped over one lacerated limb and 
another, and looked down into their burning eyes, I heard 
that song again, sweeter and sweeter, and more and more 
distinct. At length I found my way to the singer, and it 
was the same man, still singing: 


“Jesus, my God! I know His name, 
His name is all my trust.” 


And so he comforted the hundreds of men about him, to 
whom he could not go, and silenced their murmurs and 
stilled their groans by this hymn. Afterward it was thought 
that he must die, and it was told to Nolan. 

I said to him, “It is very probable that today you will 
be called to appear before God, and stand with the great 
throng before the divine throne.” 

“Blessed be God!” he said. “I shall be detailed from 
the battlefield to go up and be with Jesus forever; detailed 
to dwell in the world of light and glory; detailed to be 
wounded and to bleed and to die no more. But,” he con- 
tinued, “doctor, I am not going to die today. I feel that 
I shall live to go away from this place.” And through 
that hour of great danger the man did live by the joy of his 
soul, and afterward was carried to Fortress Monroe. I 
heard from a soldier afterward that there he was still singing 
as before, and that subsequently he was removed thence 
to Washington, and there died and went up into the bosom of 
his Savior. 

Christian Memorials of the War, Hackett. 


No. 335. 


“JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL.” 
Rey. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


A Mrs. Lewis, of Norwich, England, many years ago 
went to hear Mr. Hook preach at the Tabernacle, being 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 349 


under great distress of mind. She had determined to attend 
divine service once more, and if she obtained no peace 
she intended then to drown herself. The first hymn which 
the preacher announced was: 


“Jesus, Lover of my soul.” 


which so startled her and suited her condition that she 
supposed that he “had made this hymn for her sake,” for 
she had no doubt that some one had informed him of her 
state of mind. As a result of this experience, she was 
hopefully converted. 

English Hymns. 


No. 336. 
“JERUSALEM THE GOLDEN.” 


Bernard of Cluny. 
Rev. Joun Mason Neate, Translator, 1818—1866. 


There is a touching little story told with some just 
pride by Dr. Neale, the translator of this hymn, of a 
child who was ill and in great suffering. The medical 
attendants could do but little to ease its agonies of pain. 
But the child would lie without a murmur and almost 
without motion while the whole of the four hundred lines 
of the hymn on the better country, of which the hymn com- 
mencing as above is a part, were being read to it. 


No. 337. 
“NOW I HAVE FOUND A FRIEND.” 


Henry J. M. Hors, 1809. 


Rev. Denham Smith relates the following: “A little boy, 
about four years old, came one day where a group of 
young conyerts were singing this hymn. Immediately the 
little fellow stood still, with closed lips, a very unusual 


350 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


thing for him, and when asked why he did not sing, he said 
he could not sing, for Jesus was not his: but he said, ‘Will 
you pray for me, for I want to know Jesus as mine.’ When 
he went home his mother said to his sisters, ‘Let us sing 
two or three other hymns, and then “Jesus is mine?” and 
then perhaps he will sing it too; so they sang several others, 
and the little fellow caroled away at the top of his voice, 
until they commenced: 


‘Now I have found a Friend, 
Jesus is mine.” 


His lips again closed, and in a voice of craving sorrow, 
turning to his mother, he said, ‘Ah, mamma, why do you 
ask me to sing that? For Jesus is not mine.’ 

When his father came home in the evening and heard it, 
he said: ‘Oh, it must be fancy in the child; a good night’s 
sleep will wear it away; he is too young to know much 
of the reality of such things.’ So he went to bed, and next 
morning when the father opened the door, what do you 
think he saw? There was the little one standing in his 
night-clothes, looking like a perfect picture of anxiety and 
inquiry. 

“He said, ‘Dear papa, is not the day after tomorrow 
Friday?’ 

“Ves, my child.’ 

“And, papa, will there not be a prayer meeting on 
Friday?’ 

“Yes, my child.’ 

“Then, will you not ask them to pray for me, that I 
may be able to sing, “Jesus is mine,” for I have been looking 
for Jesus, but I cannot find Him; Jesus is not mine.’ 

“His papa promised that he would have him prayed for. 
Wednesday came, and Thursday, and at last Friday; but 
he could not say, ‘Jesus is mine’; and amid the engage- 
ments of the day, the father actually forgot his own child. 
Toward the end of the meeting, the congregation arose and 
sang: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 351 


‘Now I have found a Friend, 
Jesus is mine.’ 


It happened that the father was in one part of the church 
and his little boy in another; and as they sang, the little 
fellow wended his way through the crowded aisles and 
groups of young converts till he reached the father, and 
resting his hands upon his knees, he burst into tears, saying, 
‘Dear papa, I have found Jesus! Jesus is mine!’” 


No. 338. 
“SOVEREIGN RULER OF THE SKIES.” 


Rev. JoHN Ryanp, 1753—1825. 


Robert Flockhart was a field and street preacher well 
known in the last century. He was a soldier against the 
French, and when in the battle of the Isle of France, he 
was suddenly moved to sing. A battlefield, in the midst 
of flying shot and all the uproar and turmoil is a curious 
place for a song, but he sang a part of the hymn beginning 
as above: 


“Plagues and death around me fly, 
Till He bids I cannot die; 
Not a single shaft can hit, 
Till the love of God thinks fit.” 


And he followed this hymn with another quite as appropri- 
ate to the circumstances: 


“When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
Bid my anxious fears subside.” 


352 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 339. 
“QO WHERE ARE KINGS AND EMPIRES NOW?” 


BisHop CLEVELAND Coxe, 1818. 


Rey. S. W. Duffield, in his “English Hymns,” quotes one 
occasion, when this hymn was very effectively used. “It 
was when the General Conference of the Evangelical Alli- 
ance was convened in New York City, in 1873. It was at the 
time when so much had been said about the ‘prayer test,’ 
and when we scarcely knew whether the faith of the Church 
might not have been shaken for the moment by the universal 
storm of skepticism. President Woolsey was giving the 
opening address. After referring to the prevalent scepti- 
cism, he looked up with that peculiar twinkle of the eye 
which we all recollect—at once expressive of denial and 
satisfaction—and repeated the first stanza of Bishop Coxe’s 
hymn: 





‘Oh, where are kings and empires now, 
Of old that went and came? 

But Lord! Thy Church is praying yet, 
A thousand years the same!’ 


For a moment there was silence. In another moment the 
full significance of the reference had flashed on every mind, 
and the response was instantaneous and universal. Shouts, 
waving of handkerchiefs from the ladies, clapping of hands, 
stamping of feet—I never knew anything like it. Round 
after round continued, until the storm of applause ended 
in a burst of grateful tears. No one doubted that the 
Church still believed in prayer and that the tempest had 
passed without the loss of a sail!” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 353 


No. 340. 
“THE GOD OF ABRAM PRAISE.” 


Rev. Tuomas Ouivers, 1725—1799. 


A young Jewess had but lately given her heart to the 
Savior. Her baptism enraged her father, who was the chief 
of his synagogue, and he vowed to kill her. She found 
refuge in the house of the minister who had baptized her, 
“and there,’ says an eyewitness, who was brought to 
Christ by the scene, “I saw her, in the hour of bitterness, 
when the reality of her abandonment by the house of 
her fathers first came upon her. It did not dampen her 
joy in Jesus Christ, and I shall never forget the scene when 
she stood, with clasped hands, her black, lustrous eyes 
upturned to heaven, and her dark but expressive face lighted 
up, and lifting up her voice sang snatches of what she had 
already learned to call her own hymn: 


‘The God of Abram praise, 
Who reigns enthroned above, 
Ancient of everlasting days, 
And God of love: 
Jehovah, great I Am, 
By earth and heaven confessed, 
I bow and bless the sacred name, 
Forever blest.” 


No. 341. 
“ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME.” 


Rev. Aucustus MontacuE Topuapy, 1740—1778. 


Mrs. Lucy Seaman Bainbridge, who, with her husband, 
Dr. Bainbridge, made the tour of the world in order to 


304 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


study Christian missions, tells a most beautiful incident 
in connection with this hymn: “The Chinese women, it 
seems, are so anxious to ‘make merit’ for themselves that 
they will perform any labor to escape the painful trans- 
migrations of the next life. They dread to be born again 
as dogs or cats, and the highest hope possessed by them 
is to be reborn as men. In order to secure this, they do any 
and every meritorious act.”’? One whom Mrs. Bainbridge 
saw had with incredible labor dug a well twenty-five feet 
deep and some ten or fifteen feet across. With her poor, 
weak hands she had excavated every foot of it, and it was 
only after this achievement that she learned of Christ and 
of the free Gospel of salvation. When Mrs. Bainbridge 
met her she was an old woman of eighty, and stretching 
out her crippled and aged fingers, she and her visitor sang 
together: 


“Nothing in my hands I bring, 
Simply to Thy cross I cling.” 


The ship London, lost in the Bay of Biscay, January 11, 
1866, had on board the Rev. J. D. Draper and his wife, who 
were bound for Australia. The last man that left the ship 
was asked what the passengers were doing, and he replied 
that the last sounds he heard were the voices of as many 
as could sing, singing: 


“Rock of Ages, cleft for me. 
Let me hide myself in Thee!” 


Patrick Donnellan was an Irish boy living in County 
Clare, Ireland. In this county the Irish tongue being 
mostly spoken, the most dense ignorance and darkness pre- 
vailed. When Donnellan was fifteen, a school was opened 
in the neighborhood, at which he learned to read and where 
he received some Scriptural instruction. When about twenty 
years of age he became a Christian. At that time there 
was much persecution of those that read the Bible, by the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 305 


Romish priests, their names being read aloud by the priest 
at mass and the ignorant people sometimes resorting to 
violence in their persecution of them. It was no light 
matter in such a region for young Donnellan to take a 
stand as a disciple of Christ, but he took the stand boldly, 
knowing fully the possibilities before him. When asked 
by a Christian friend if he did not expect to suffer persecu- 
tion for the name of Christ, he replied that such was his 
prospect, and he was aware of it. Soon after, on the six- 
teenth of February, 1831, he accompanied a gentleman to 
the house of a poor woman, who had suffered persecution 
because she desired to educate an only child in a knowledge 
of the Scriptures. Being well acquainted ‘with the Irish 
language, he had been employed as an interpreter in this 
visit. As they returned home after this visit, they were 
both fired at from behind the hedge of the road and 
wounded; Donnellan receiving two wounds, one being in the 
side. From the moment the wound was examined, it 
was apparent that it would result in his death, and he was 
so informed. When relief was procured and a cart pro- 
vided, the sufferer was laid on it and conveyed to the house 
where many awaited his arrival. This meeting was fitted 
to excite strong emotions. Donnellan himself, however, 
was calm, and having been carried into the kitchen and 
seated, he began to recite the hymn: 


“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee; 
Let the water and the blood 
From Thy riven side which flowed, 
Be of sin the double cure, 
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.” 


He lived about two days after the wound, and when nearly 
exhausted and dying, he repeated to his sister and other 
members of the family the following hymn, as if he would 
pour into these bleeding hearts the balm of comfort: 


356 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Rejoice for a brother deceased, 
Our loss is his infinite gain; 
A soul out of prison released, 
And freed from its bodily chain; 
With songs let us follow his flight, 
And mount with his spirit above; 
Escape to the mansions of light, 
And lodge in the Eden of love. 


“Our brother the haven hath gained, 
Outflying the tempest. and wind, 
His rest he hath sooner obtained, 
And left his companions behind; 
Still tossed on a sea of distress, 
Hard toiling to make the blest shore, 
Where all is assurance and peace, 
And sorrow and sin are no more.” 


When he reached the middle of the last verse he could not 
refrain from weeping, and this was the only occasion during 
his sufferings on which he gave way to tears. 

Christian’s Penny Magazine, May 6, 1837. 


On board the ill-fated steamer Sewanakha was one of 
the Fisk Jubilee Singers. Before leaving the burning 
steamer and committing himself to the merciless waves, he 
carefully fastened upon himself and wife life preservers. 
Some one cruelly dragged away that of his wife, leaving her 
without hope, except as she could cling to her husband. 
This she did, placing her hands firmly on his shoulders 
and resting there till her strength became exhausted, she 
said, “I can hold on no longer.” 

“Try a little longer,” was the response of the wearied and 
agonized husband. “Let us sing ‘Rock of Ages.’” And 
as the sweet strains floated over those troubled waters, reach- 
ing the ears of the sinking and dying, little did they know, 
those sweet singers of Israel, whom they comforted. But 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 357 


lo! as they sang, one after another of those exhausted ones 
were seen raising their hands above the overwhelming waves, 
joining with a last effort in this sweet dying pleading 
prayer. 


“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee.” 


With the song seemed to come strength; another and yet 
another was encouraged to renewed effort. Soon in the 
distance a boat was seen approaching. Singing still, they 
tried, and soon with superhuman strength laid hold of the 
lifeboat, upon which they were borne in safety to land. 
This incident is related by the singer himself, who said he 
believed Toplady’s “Rock of Ages” saved many another 
besides himself and wife. 


A Quaker lady,‘who for three years had visited camps 
and hospitals to help and cheer the sick, wounded and 
dying during the war of the Rebellion in America, relates 
the case of a little drummer boy, who had recognized no 
one since his fall and had given little evidence of con- 
sciousness; he was very near his end; and she whispered 
in his ear: 


“Rock of Ages,. cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee!” 


when the countenance of the brave youth brightened up, 
and he followed with the second stanza of the hymn, saying 
that his mother had taught him that hymn, and he had 
often sung it in Sunday school, and after a few minutes 
conversation he expressed a hope in the Savior, and fell 
asleep to wake no more to earthly scenes. 


A chaplain of the Hartford Retreat for the Insane, Rev. 
Dr. Thompson, relates the following incident in his expe- 
rience there: In passing through the halls he met an 


358 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


educated man whom he had long known and respected. 
His incoherent talk and dejected countenance arrested his 
attention, and he saw that a malady had remorseless sway 
over the body and mind of the man. The physicians had 
little hope of his recovery. Finding him one day in the 
deepest despondency, the chaplain repeated the stanza 
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me.’’ Afterward when the man 
came to himself and was better, he reminded the faithful 
chaplain that the hymn was indissolubly linked with the 
beginning of his convalescence. 
Christian Secretary, September 9, 1885. 


No. 842. 
“O THOU FROM WHOM ALL GOODNESS FLOWS.” 


Rev. THomas Hawets, 17321820. 


Mr. John B. Gough writes thus about his father: “During 
a retreat of the English army, when closely pursued by 
Marshal Soult, about the year 1809, my father, then about 
thirty years of age, was a soldier.in the Fifty-second Light 
Infantry. He had been slightly wounded in the chest, 
and though his wound was not considered fatal, it was 
painful and irritating. The army had suffered fearfully 
from exposure, famine, and the heavy fatigues of an active 
campaign. I well remember my father saying to me: ‘John, 
you will never know what hunger is till you feel the two 
sides of your stomach grinding together.’ In that cam- 
paign, men, mad with hunger, fought like wolves over the 
half-decayed hoof of a bullock; and often when one of 
these poor animals, overcome with weakness and starvation, 
was staggering as if about to fall, the ready knife was 
applied to its throat, and the fainting soldiers, eagerly 
catching the blood in their hands, and hardly waiting for 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 359 


it to congeal, made it take the place of food. In this 
retreat the Fifty-second Regiment—to use an American 
term—was demoralized; and, while they staggered on, my 
father threw himself out of the ranks, under the shadow of 
a large rock, to die; he could go no farther. Lying there he 
took from his inner pocket a hymnbook (which I have 
today with all the marks of its seventy years upon it), and 
began to read the hymn in which is the verse: 


‘The hour is near, consign’d to death, 
I own the just decree; 

Savior, with my last parting breath, 
I'll ery, “Remember me.”’’ 


He must die—it seemed inevitable—though far from home, 
in a strange land. He was a Christian, and endeavored to 
prepare himself for the change. Suddenly a large bird of 
prey, with a red neck growing out of a ruffle of feathers, 
came swooping along, almost brushing my father’s body 
with its wings; and then. circling up, it alighted on the 
point of rock and turned its blood-red eye on its intended 
victim. As my father saw that horrible thing watching and 
waiting to tear him in pieces even before life was extinct, 
it so filled him with horror and disgust that he cried: ‘I 
cannot endure this; it is too terrible. When I am unable 
to drive that fearful thing away, it will be tearing my 
flesh. I cannot endure it!’ He arose to his feet and fell, 
- then crawled and struggled away, till at length he crept 
into a poor hut, found safety, and soon after joined his 
regiment. Though he was very, very ill after that frightful 
episode, he recovered, and died in 1871, at the remarkable 
age of ninety-four years.” 


360 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 848. 
“SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.” 


Miss Fanny VAN ALSTYNE, 1823. 


Bishop Hannington, a missionary of the English Church 
in Central Africa, fell a martyr to his zeal in the cause 
of missions in October, 1885. During the last few days of 
his life, he kept a diary, from which the following story 
of his sufferings and heroism is gleaned: He was on his 
way to Uganda, and the king, Mwanga, was displeased 
because white men were coming to his capital on the east- 
ward side; and had caused his detention by one of his 
chiefs, Lubwa. This took place on the twenty-first of 
October. While detained at Lubwa’s, which is near the 
northeastern arm of Lake Nyanza, a soldier was placed 
to guard the Bishop’s tent, yet he was allowed to climb 
a hill from which he could see the Nile. While upon the 
hill he was set upon by about twenty ruffians. He says, 
“Brahim (his head man) they bound instantly; me they 
threw violently to the ground, and proceeded to strip me 
of all valuables. Thinking they were robbers, I shouted 
for help, when they forced me up and hurried me away, 
as I thought, to throw me down a precipice close at hand. 
I shouted again, in spite of one threatening to kill me with 
a club. Twice I nearly broke away from them, and then 
grew faint with struggling and was dragged by the legs 
over the ground. I said: ‘Lord, I put myself into Thy 
Hands. I look to Thee alone.’ Then another struggle, and 
I got to my feet and was thus dashed along. More than 
once I was violently brought into contact with banana 
trees, some trying in their haste to force me one way, others 
the other, and the exertion of struggling directly after dinner 
gave me an agonizing pain in the stomach. In spite of 
all, feeling I was being dragged away to be murdered at 
a distance, I sang: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 361 


‘Safe in the arms of Jesus.’ 
and 
‘My God I am Thine,’ 


and then laughed at the very agony of my situation.” 

And so the diary goes on relating his sufferings at the 
hands of these savages to whose land he had gone to tell 
them of the love of Christ for them, until at last his 
reason almost left him and he spoke of himself as very 
low and crying to God to release him. But through it all 
he found comfort and help in God’s word and spoke of the 
Psalms he read and of the help he found in them. And at 
last he was taken out and murdered by those whom he had 
gone to help. 


During a great flood of the Missouri River some years 
ago, the following incident occurred: A woman living 
near the river bank with her two children, little girls of 
four and ten years of age, was called away to a neighbor- 
ing town for the day and left the two children in charge of 
the home, especially placing the younger one in charge of 
the older sister. At this time, although there had been 
heavy rains for many days, the river was still inside its 
banks, and no flood was expected. After the mother left, 
however, the rain set in again with great violence, frighten- 
ing the children greatly with the incessant lightning and 
thunder. Sometime after night-fall the youngest fell asleep, 
but the elder, true to the charge committed to her, re- 
mained awake soothing the child when the noise of the 
tempest roused it. During the night she was startled by 
a dull heavy sound at the door. Springing up to open it, 
what was her astonishment and fright, to be met by the 
waters of the river, which had overflowed their banks and 
were beating against the house. As the door opened, the 
water rushed in over the child’s feet and ankles; she quickly 
closed the door again and, going to the window, saw that 
the rain had ceased and that the moon was shining, but 


362 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


as far as she could see, it was only water, yellow water 
everywhere, and rising rapidly. It was almost up to the 
window panes already, and it was only a question how long 
the frail wooden door and window could bar the stream 
before the house would be flooded and they swept away. 
She almost screamed with terror, but the thought of her 
little sister, sleeping now, and committed to her special 
care, nerved her to thoughts and acts above her years. 
Suddenly she thought of the stairs, and gathering the 
sleeping child in her arms, she went softly up the steps. 
She laid her on the bed and kept her awful vigil alone. 
Oh, for one kiss from mamma’s lips before the terrible 
waters swallowed her; the tears flowed silently, and she 
knelt and prayed as she had never prayed before. So the 
long night wore away, and the candle flickered, flared, 
and then died in its socket. Suddenly a sound broke on 
the silence which she knew too well was the breaking up 
of the furniture below, that awakened “Dot,” the little 
sister, and she cried plaintively: ‘Will mamma _ never 
come for us, sister?” 

What a pang those words sent to the sister’s heart as 
she asked herself the question inwardly; but steadfastly 
she replied, “If mamma doesn’t, darling, Jesus will.” 

“Then,” said the child dreamily, “I wish He would come 
quick,” and she dropped asleep again. Nellie held Dot 
closely in her arms, hoping she would wake no more, but 
she did, and this time it was with a loud cry: “I want 
mamma; oh, where’s my mamma?” | 

It was more than Nellie could stand; she sobbed aloud 
and shook with nervous terror. Then, with a mighty effort, 
she controlled herself and said: ‘Don’t ery, baby, sister will 
sing to you.” Tremblingly she began: 


“Safe in the arms of Jesus, 
Safe on His gentle breast.” 


The words calmed her, and her voice found strength as 
she sang on to the end of the verse. With the first gleam 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 363 


of the morning, a boat with two oarsmen might have been 
seen rowing up and down the river searching for the 
sufferers of that awful night. “That’s a deserted house, 
no use going there,’ said one; “it rocks now, and in five 
minutes it will be down.” 

“Hush,” said the other, resting on his oars, as a sweet 
childish voice, clear and distinct, rang out across the 
waters: 

“There shall my soul find rest.” 


“Father in heaven,” said the man reverently, as he 
thought of his own babies asleep in their cradles at home. 
“There’s a child over there.” A few strong strokes brought 
the boat with its eager rowers up to the little window sill. 
He called loudly: “Who’s there?” Nellie rushed to the 
window. 

“Come, my little maid, no time to talk,” and he reached 
out his arms to her. But she drew back. “No, Dot first,’’ 
and, catching up the child, she wrapped her up in a 
comfort and gave her charge to the strong arms that waited 
without. The boat with the two saved children had hardly 
moved away before the old house tottered and fell into 
the waters, leaving no trace behind, but the children, saved 
by a song, were soon placed in their mother’s arms. 
SaraH LeiaH, in Journal and Messenger, January 18, 1884. 


No. 344. 
“THE DAY IS PAST AND GONE.” 


Rev. JoHN LELAND, 1754—1841. 


In the Century Magazine for September, 1885, in an 
article entitled “A Woman’s Diary of the Siege of Vicks- 
burg,” occurs the following: “It is our custom in the 
evening to sit in the front room a little while in the dark, 


364 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


with matches and candle held ready in hand, and watch the 
shells, whose course at night is shown by the fuse. H——— 
was at the window and suddenly sprang up, crying, ‘Run!’ 

“ ‘Where?’ 

“ ‘Back!’ 

“T started through the back room, H after me. I 
was just within the door when the crash came that. threw 
me to the floor. It was the most appalling sensation I 
had ever known. Worse thar earthquake, which I have 
also experienced. Shaken and deafened, I picked myself 
up; H—— struck a light to find me. I lighted mine, and 
the smoke guided us to the parlor I had fixed for Uncle 
J The candles were useless in the dense smoke, and 
it was many minutes before we could see. Then we found 
the entire side of the room torn out. The soldiers who 
had rushed in said, ‘This is an eighty-pound Parrott.’ It 
had entered through the front, burst on the pallet bed, 
which was in tatters; the toilet service and everything else 
in the room smashed. The soldiers assisted H. to board 
up the break with planks to keep out prowlers, and we 
went to bed in the cellar as usual. This morning the 
yard is partially plowed by a couple that fell there in the 
night. I think this house, so large and prominent from 
the river, is perhaps taken for headquarters and specially 
shelled. As we descend at night to the lower regions, I 
think of the evening hymn that grandmother taught m 
when a child: 











‘Lord, keep us safe this night, 
Secure from all our fears; 

May angels guard us while we sleep, 
Till morning light appears.’ 


Surely if there are heavenly guardians,-we need them now.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 365 
No. 346. 
“GOD IS OUR REFUGE AND OUR STRENGTH.” 


Psalm 46. Scotch. 


There are times in the history of religious communities 
when the power of Christian sentiment is seen under cir- 
cumstances of peculiar interest and sublimity. Such, for 
example, was the occasion when the representatives of the 
Presbyterian Church of Scotland met at Edinburgh to sever 
their connection with the State. A long procession of 
clergymen, headed by the white-haired Chalmers, issued 
forth from the old church of St. Giles, and proclaimed to 
the people by their coming that they had renounced their 
livings, and all State aid, and that the churches that 
they represented were henceforth to be free. The streets 
were lined, and the housetops were covered with people. 
Suddenly all Edinburgh seemed to burst into song: 


“God is our refuge and our strength 
In straits a present aid. 

Therefore, although the earth remove, 
We will not be afraid.” 


From street to street, from house-top to house-top, the 


grand old psalm rose, with a meaning never realized before. 
Children shouted, for joy, and strong men wept. 


No. 346. 
“BEHOLD THE SAVIOR OF MANKIND.” 


SAMUEL WESLEY. 


“Good Friday; O how I love the return of Good Friday!” 
said a silver-haired saintly woman, as she sat with a friend 


366 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


at the door of her cottage in the evening light of that 
Christian memorial day. Her eyes looked as if they were 
reflecting holy light from the mysterious cross; and her 
voice was tremulous with sacred feeling as she spoke. “It 
was on a Good Friday evening that my heart, while yet 
young, was first broken, as I listened to the story of the 
cross; and then healed, as the music of this hymn seemed 
to come direct with life from heaven in those words: 


‘O Lamb of God! was ever pain, 
Was ever love like Thine!’ 


O how precious that hymn has been to me ever since! It . 
is, indeed, my Good Friday hymn. This day’s return is 
always sweet. And that hymn is my heart’s music through- 
out the day, and will be till I go to see Him!” 


No. 347. 
“HOW HAPPY IS THE PILGRIM’S LOT.” 
Rev. JOHN WESLEY. 


No doubt Mr. Wesley was sincere in all that he said 
in this hymn at the time it was written, but he changed 
his mind afterward. There are some stanzas in the hymn 
as he wrote it that are usually omitted, and two of them 
read: 


“T have no sharer of my heart 
To rob my Savior of a part, 
And desecrate the whole: 
Only betrothed to Christ am I, 
And wait His coming from the sky 
To wed my happy soul. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 367 


“I have no babes to hold me here, 
But children more securely dear, 
For mine I humbly claim: 
Better than daughters or than sons, 
Temples divine of Heavenly stones 
Inscribed with Jesus’ name.” 


Four years after he made this rash declaration, he had 
to take it all back, for he married a widow with four 
children. It would have been better for him, however, if 
he had stood by the determination of the iii for the 

match did not prove a happy one, and after leaving him 
several times and returning again, his wife left him not to 
return. 


No. 848. 
“O FOR A HEART TO PRAISE MY GOD.” 


Rev. Cartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


“An aged Congregational minister and his wife, who 
resided in a retired North Devon village, used occasionally 
to visit a Methodist home in which the services of the 
Society were held. While they were sitting in the parlor 
one day, the old man took up a book from the table, and, 
looking at the title, threw it down, saying, ‘There is no 
such thing in the world.’ It was John Wesley’s ‘Plain 
Account of Christian Perfection.’ The old lady took up 
the rejected volume, and opening about the middle, her 
eyes fell upon a passage which arrested her. ‘Why,’ she 
said, ‘is this perfection? Why, John,’ she cried to her hus- 
band, ‘is this perfection? Listen to this. I have enjoyed 
this for many years. Is this perfection, as the Methodists 
call it? Then I have got it! Is it possible in this world, 
John? It is to be enjoyed even here. This blessing God 
gives me from day to day. Listen to this’; and she read 
from one of Wesley’s pages. 


368 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Her husband was silent, until the Methodist mother of 
the house opened an old hymnbook, and asked whether 
they could not both join her in singing a hymn of Charles 
Wesley’s, which expressed the same spiritual experience 
as John Wesley described, in a manner more tuneful, but 
not with less precision. ‘Cannot you sing this from your 
hearts?’ said she, repeating verse after verse. 

“¢Ves,’ they said. 

“Well, then, we will sing together.’ And the good 
Methodist woman, and the old veteran theologue, and his 
venerable, warm-hearted wife, sang: 


‘O for a heart to praise my God, 
A heart from sin set free, 

A heart that always feels Thy blood, 
So freely spilt for me!’ ” 


No. 349. 
“MY SOUL THROUGH MY REDEEMER’S CARE.” 


Rev. Cuarues Westey, 1708—1788. 


Sometimes a hymn seems to remain in the memory when 
all things else are forgotten, and to express one’s thoughts 
when all other forms of words fail to do so. Twenty years 
ago (1872) in Plymouth, England, a Christian man was 
dying. His power to speak was well-nigh gone, but now 
and then he was heard to say, as if trying to recall some 
half-forgotten words: “Soul—my soul.” His wife, standing 
by his bedside, repeated various verses of Scripture and 
parts of hymns in which occurred something about the soul, 
without obtaining from the sick man any token of recogni- 
tion, and at last repeated this line, when at once her 
husband’s hand pressed hers, and as she repeated to him 
the words of the hymn, he showed by every means within 
his power, the satisfaction it gave him to hear the words. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 369 
No. 350. 
“AND CAN WE FORGET IN TASTING OUR MEAT?” 


Rev. Cuartes WEsLEy, 1708—1788. 


The Wesleys were firm believers in giving religion a 
prominent part in social life, and lost no opportunity of 
impressing this duty upon their followers. They provided 
their people with metrical graces to be used before and 
after their meals, and while partaking of them, and intro- 
duced what was probably before unknown, the practice of 
singing these graces. When eighty-six years old, Mr. John 
Wesley met a large party of friends at dinner at Sligo. 
While the meal was in progress, Mr. Wesley suddenly 
stopped, clasping his hands and looking up as if in the 
attitude of prayer. Instantly all conversation ceased, and 
every eye was fixed upon the face of Mr. Wesley. And 
then he began to sing these lines: 


“And can we forget 
In tasting our meat 
The angelical food which erelong we shall eat? 
When enrolled with the blest 
In glory we rest, 
And forever sit down at the heavenly feast.” 


When he had sung this stanza, he resumed his meal, but a 
peculiar solemnity rested upon all who were present, and 
they never forgot the occasion. 


No. 381. 
“SALVATION! O THE JOYFUL SOUND!” 
Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


Miss Harding, the teacher of the Ladies’ Society at Jeru- 
salem, mentions the following incident of a little Jewish 


370 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


girl in that city, one of her scholars: “On all occasions this 
child is fond of quietly talking with me alone; and one 
evening, while seated beside me on a stone on the Jaffa 
Plain, while her sister and another child were playing at a 
little distance, she repeated to me, in a clear, sweet voice, 
her favorite hymn: 


‘Salvation! O the joyful sound! 
What pleasure to our ears! 

A sovereign balm to every wound, 
A cordial for our fears. 


Chorus: 


‘Glory, honor, praise and power, 

Be unto the Lamb forever! 

Jesus Christ is our Redeemer! 
Hallelujah! praise the Lord!’ 


On coming to the chorus: 
‘Jesus Christ is our Redeemer!’ 


she said very earnestly, and with deep feeling, ‘Oh! Ma’am, 
that’s sweet. Jesus Christ is owr Redeemer, owr Redeemer! 
No man can redeem his brother; no money! no money! 
nothing but only the precious Blood of Christ!’ In the 
mouth of a little Jewish girl, these words had great force and 
deep interest. The child had only been with me eight 
months, so I had hardly known how far she could follow 
the English lessons I had given. I was much affected by 
the circumstances.” 
Youth’s Dayspring, June, 1850. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 371 
No. 352. 
“PRAISE YE THE LORD! °’TIS GOOD TO RAISE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


The Wesleys more than almost any other men of their 
times brought the power of religion into the daily lives of 
their followers, and taught them to live, and act, and talk, 
and think, as if God were a present reality to them. On one 
occasion Mr. John Wesley was taken with a party of friends 
to the top of a hill behind the town of Chatham, where a 
very fine view was to be had. All were impressed with the 
beauty of the landscape spread out beneath their feet, and 
many were the admiring remarks that fell from their lips. 
After a few minutes Mr. Wesley took off his hat and began 
to sing this hymn of praise to God, appropriate to the place 
and the occasion because of its reference to the works of 
God in nature. One of the friends present when that hymn 
was sung said that he never forgot the lesson it taught him, 
and that often afterward, when looking at a fine bit of 
scenery, he would recall the incident and say to himself or 
to those who were with him: “Why should we give the 
landscape all the praise and its Maker none?” 


No. 353. 
“HAPPY THE HEART WHERE GRACES REIGN.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


One of the most effective uses ever made of a hymn, by a 
preacher, was made of this hymn by Rev. Dr. Hannah who 
preached before a Methodist Conference at Sheffield, Eng- 
land, in 1835. The house was crowded, and the heat 
oppressive. The discourse was a masterly one, from the 


372 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


text, “And now abideth faith, hope, charity; these three; 
but the greatest of these is charity.” The sermon was long 
and held the closest attention of the audience much beyond 
the usual time for closing, and so when the preacher reached 
the end of the first two divisions of his subject—‘‘faith and 
hope’—he said that time would fail him to consider the 
third and greatest of the Christian graces, and he must leave 
it to eternity to reveal the full meaning of the word, and 
then he read this hymn. Powerful as had been the preacher’s 
description of the graces of faith and hope, it was felt by 
the audience that no words of his could so clearly and effec- 
tively have stated the character and power of Christian 
charity, and one person present in that audience, speaking 
of the occasion after a lapse of over thirty years, said that 
the hallowed impression of the reading and singing of that 
hymn was still fresh upon his mind. 


No. 354. 
~ BE PRESEN LAL. OUR, LABLE*; LORD: 


Rev. JoHN CENNICK. 


The propriety of “asking a blessing” or “saying Grace” 
as it is called, before our meals, is sanctioned by the fact 
that Jesus Christ did it. The custom is older, however, 
than the Christian era, and Jesus only gave His sanction to 
a practice common before in Jewish families. Metrical 
Graces began with the Reformation, Philip Melancthon, 
Luther’s companion and helper, having composed some in 
Latin. And at almost the same time (1545) they appeared 
in English in Great Britain. They were used both before 
and after the meal. The Wesleys taught their followers to 
use them, and Charles Wesley composed and published a 
small pamphlet of them, containing eleven Graces to be used 
“before meat,” and fifteen to be used “at or after meat.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 373 


They taught their people to sing them, and this practice 
became very popular among the Methodists, and is con- 
tinued to this day by them in many parts of England. Per- 
haps the most beautiful as well as the most widely used of 
all these Metrical Graces, is the one written by John 
Cennick: 


“Be present at our table, Lord! 

Be here and everywhere adored! 
Thy creatures bless and grant that we 
May feast in Paradise with Thee.” 


John Wesley had this stanza engraved on the family teapot. 


No. 356. 
“HOW MANY PASS THE GUILTY NIGHT.” 
“HEARKEN TO THE SOLEMN VOICE.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


The coal miners of Kingswood, near Bristol, England, had 
the habit of spending every Saturday night at the ale houses, 
in drunken carousals. Mr. Wesley preached there and a 
great revival took place. Many miners were converted and 
the whole character of the place was altered. Among other 
changes the-miners spent every Saturday night in meetings 
for prayer and the singing of hymns. When Mr. Wesley 
heard of this he determined to make such meetings general 
among Methodists everywhere, and appointed watchnight 
meetings to be held once a month at the full of the moon. 

“We commonly chose,” says Mr. Wesley, “the Friday 
night nearest the full of the moon so that those of the people 
who lived at a distance might have light to their homes.” 
These watchnight meetings, especially when conducted as 


374 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


they often were by one of the Wesleys themselves, were 
meetings of great solemnity and power, and they have been 
from that day to this a power for good. As soon as these 
watchnight meetings became an established feature of the 
Methodist movement, Charles Wesley issued a little twelve- 
page pamphlet, containing eleven hymns for special use on 
these occasions, and the first two hymns composed by him 
for these watchnight meetings were these. The first one, as 
will be seen, refers to the origin of the watchnight service in 
the Saturday night drunken revels of the Kingswood col- 
liers, and the reference is all the plainer in the form in 
which Wesley first wrote it, beginning, “Oft have we passed 
the guilty night.” 


No. 356. 
“FLUNG TO THE HEEDLESS WINDS.” 


Rev. Martin Lutuer, 1483—1546. 


It was but a few years after the Pope issued his Bull 
against Martin Luther and his errors, that he lighted the 
fires of martyrdom against Luther’s followers. The first 
victims were two young monks who had learned the way of 
salvation by faith as Luther taught it and said they would 
rather die than recant. They died singing Te Deum 
Laudamus, and their death opened Luther’s mouth in this 
song of victory over their heroic death, and of defiance of 
their murderers. It was his first hymn, and it flew all over 
the land as if angels carried it, and spread in every direc- 
tion an enthusiasm for the faith which had inspired the 
heroes of whom it sang. The translation is by John 
Alexander Messenger and appeared in a translation of 
D’Aubigne’s “History of the Reformation,’ published at 
Philadelphia in 1843. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 375 
No. 387. 
“WHEN DOOMED TO DEATH, THE APOSTLE LAY.” 


WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. 


When the Methodists were compiling the hymnal now 
(1892) in authorized use in their churches, they asked Mr. 
Bryant to write for them a hymn on the subject of temper- 
ance. He complied with their request and sent them this- 
hymn, which was one of the last of his compositions, as he 
died in less than a year after it was written. When he sent 
the hymn, he wrote a letter in which he said: “Thinking of 
the subject of which you spoke in your letter, it occurred 
to me that the deliverance of Peter from prison might fur- 
nish matter on which to hang a temperance hymn. I have 
produced what is written above and it is at your service.” 


No. 3858. 
“ON THIS STONE, NOW LAID WITH PRAYER.” 


JOHN PIERPONT. 


It makes a great difference when and where we use capital 
letters. Now here is a hymn written by a Unitarian, for 
use at the laying of the corner stone of a Unitarian chapel 
in Boston (May 23, 1839,) and the writer intended it to 
voice his own theology and that of the church for whose 
use it was composed; and so in writing it he began the 
words “Corner Stone,” at the end of each stanza with 
capital letters, while he began the words “child” in the . 
second stanza, and “spirit” in the third, with small letters. 
The change by which the hymn is made suitable for Trini- 
tarian hymnals is hardly a fair one, for it puts into the 
author’s mouth sentiments in which: he did not believe. 


376 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 359. 
“LORD OF THE SABBATH, HEAR OUR VOWS”—1736. 


Rev. Puitre Dopprince, 1702—1751. 


_ I have heard the complaint that the Bible gives us very 
indefinite descriptions of heaven, and of the employments 
of its inhabitants. I think there is in this hymn a sufficient 
reply to such complaints. On the second of January, 1736, 
Dr. Doddridge undertook to do this in a sermon to his 
people, from the text, “There remaineth therefore a rest to 
tthe people of God:” and this hymn was written to be sung 
at the close of this sermon to illustrate his theme. A mis- 
sionary who had spent thirty years in Jamaica, said of this 
hymn, “One who knows what it is to be exposed to the sun 
of the torrid zone, shudders to read the dreadful lines in 
which Dr. Doddridge describes Heaven as a place where 
there is 

‘No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
But sacred, high eternal noon.’ 


The idea is intolerable. It terrifies one to think of it. The 
man who wrote that hymn must have lived far North, where 
a glimpse of the sun was a rare favor, and his highest enjoy- 
ment to bask in its rays a livelong summer day. I met once 
in Jamaica,” said he, “with a black boy, under the shade of 
some cocoanut trees, where we both had taken shelter from 
the glare of the noonday sun. I said, ‘Well, my boy, did 
you ever hear of heaven?’ 

“ “Me hear, massa.’ ; 

“<“And what sort of a place do you think it is?’ 

“ “Massa, it must be a very cool place.’ 

This agrees with the incident related of a missionary who 
spoke to the Greenlanders of the fires of hell, and only 
aroused in them by so doing a desire to go there. How- 
ever, this is a good hymn, only when we sing it, it is well to 
omit the stanza containing the lines referred to. 


” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 377 
No. 360. 
“PRAISE THE LORD, HIS GLORIES SHOW.” 


Rev. Henry Francis Lyrn, 1793—1847. 
The fourth stanza of this hymn reads: 


“Strings and wires, hands and hearts, 
In the concert bear your parts! 
All that breathe, your Lord adore, 
Praise Him, praise Him, evermore!” 


This stanza would have shut the doors of our Methodist 
hymnals to this fine hymn a century ago. The early 
Methodists held music in high esteem and made it one of 
their most effective means of evangelization. Indeed Charles 
Wesley caught up the songs and ballads which were sung 
on the streets and in the theaters, and wrote for them sacred 
words. He wrote the words: 


“Listed into the cause of sin, 
Why should a good be evil? 
Music, alas! too long hath been 
Pressed to obey the devil.” 


And yet they would have no instrumental music in their 
service of praise, and especially abhorred instruments with 

“strings.” John Wesley said, “I have no objection to instru- 
“ments of music in our chapels, provided they are neither 
heard nor seen.” And Dr. Adam Clarke, the great Metho- 
dist commentator, wrote: ‘Music as a science, I admire; 
but instruments of music in the house of God, I abominate 
and abhor.” And yet this hymn is now in the hymnals of 
our Methodist brethren, and they praise God with instru- 
ments of a good many more than ten strings. 


.* 


378 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 361. 
“<Q HAPPY SAINTS WHO DWELL IN LIGHT.” 


Rev. Joun Berrivce, 1716—1793. 


I am very glad there is a hymn in this book written by 
John Berridge, because it gives me an opportunity to tell 
you something of one of the quaintest old fellows (pardon 
the irreverence) who ever preached a sermon or gave out a 
hymn. His very looks were enough, it seems to me, to set 
a congregation off into a roar, and I wish I had his picture 
here for you to see. He was a clergyman of the Church of 
England, but no parish bounds or bishops’ threats could 
keep him from going off on an occasional itinerant trip to 
preach the Gospel to those who were neglected, whether he 
found them in Church or field. On one of these occasions 
he had come, as the story goes, on a Saturday night to a 
little village in the north of England, and he must needs 
stay over Sunday there. So he requested the landlord of 
the inn to go to the parson of the parish and tell him that 
a clergyman was stopping over Sunday at the inn who would 
be glad to assist at the service if wanted. The vicar was 
cautious. ‘We must be careful,” said he, “for you know 
there are many of these wandering Methodist preachers 
about. What sort of a man is he?” 

“Oh, he is all right, sir,’ was the response. “You just 
see his nose, sir, and you will know he is no Methodist.” 

“Well, ask him to call on me in the morning and I will 
judge for myself.” The call was made and Berridge’s » 
peaked red nose, and mouth suggestive of jokes and puns, 
and all sorts of fun, at once convinced the suspicious vicar, 
and he was invited to preach. But if ever a man made a 
mistake that vicar did, for Berridge was as earnest in his 
piety as he was in his fun, and when he preached he went 
straight for the consciences and heart of his audience, and 
before he had gotten half through his discourse that morning 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 379 


the hot, sharp sentences came in such rapid succession, that 
not only the people in the pews but the vicar in the pulpit 
found themselves arraigned as sinners in the sight of God. 


John Berridge lived at about the same time as Toplady 
did—Toplady, who wrote “Rock of Ages, cleft for me’— 
and yet who engaged in such fierce controversy with the 
Wesleys as would drive him out of any pulpit or church in 
these days; but Berridge had different ideas about a - 
preacher’s duty, and he advised a young man, “Look simply 
to Jesus for preaching food, and what is wanted will be 
given, and what is given will be blessed. When your heart 
is right, meek and simple, Jesus will make an orator of 
you: When you grow lofty and pleased with your prattle, 
Jesus will make a fool of you. Avoid all controversy in 
preaching, talking, or writing: preach nothing down but the 
devil and nothing up but Jesus Christ.” 


No. 362. 
“ASLEEP IN JESUS! BLESSED SLEEP.” 


Mrs. Marcaret Mackay, 1801. 


The author of this hymn, a Scotch lady, was one day 
walking in a churchyard in Devonshire, and she came to a 
tombstone bearing the simple inscription, “Sleeping in 
Jesus,” and this inscription suggested to her the writing of 
this hymn, which has the words “Asleep in Jesus” as the 
beginning of each stanza. 


No. 363. 


“BRING IN THE LAMBS, THE TENDER LAMBS.” 


Twenty years ago there lived in a Michigan city a pro- 
fessional gambler who was also given to intemperance. He 


380 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was raising a family of boys. His wife was a Christian, and 
seeing the effect of the father’s habits in the boys, though 
frail in health she proposed to leave the city and go with 
her family far back in the wilderness beyond the reach of 
these associations, that she might save her boys and pos- 
sibly reclaim her husband. The husband loved his family 
and consented to make the experiment, so they went over a 
hundred miles from their home and settled on a homestead 
in the wilderness. The next summer a Sunday school was 
organized within three miles of them. The children attended 
the Sunday school, but the mother was not able to walk the 
distance through the woods, so the father and mother re- 
mained at home. But during the summer the school had a 
picnic, when the children prevailed upon the father to go 
with them to the picnic. He led the two younger children, 
and not accustomed to attend such a gathering, he took a 
seat on a log outside the gathering with a child either side 
of him. He was greatly pleased with the exercises and did 
well his part toward furnishing dinner. The Sunday-school 
missionary was there, and brought his pastor with him, who 
was a good talker and a good singer. After the speeches 
and dinner, all joined in singing that stirring old piece, 
“Bring in the lambs, the tender lambs—O bring them into 
Jesus’ fold.” (Bradbury Trio, “New Golden Censor,” page 
338.) 

Tears rolled down the gambler’s cheeks as he looked first 
at one and then at the other of his lambs, and when the song 
was finished he came forward and asked the missionary if 
he had those books to sell. “I want three of them. I don’t 
care what they cost.” Then he said, “I am a dreadful 
wicked man and I don’t know who will ‘bring in my lambs.’ ” 
He urged the minister and missionary to go home with him 
and stay all night and “We’ll have a prayer meeting,” he 
said. 

They went, and they did have a “prayer meeting.” Three 
prayers were offered, the happy wife joining as none but a 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 381 


wife can pray for a husband. Then he prayed for himself 
and broke all the rest down by his cries and confessions. 
The Lord heard and answered. Then all joined in the song, 
“Bring in the lambs,” after which he had an “experience 
meeting.” But he was not brought into the full light. till 
the next morning, when he was ready to “publish abroad 
what great things the Lord had done for him and had com- 
passion on him.” His little lambs “led him to the lamb 
of God.” 
Henry DENsSMoRE. 


No. 364. 
“COME, O THOU TRAVELER UNKNOWN.” 


Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


The two brothers, John and Charles Wesley, were more 
than usually intimate. They roomed together at Oxford, 
formed and led the “Young Company of Students” there 
which first obtained the name of “Methodists”; worked side 
by side in harmony in the great religious movement of their 
day which established the Methodist Church. Charles, the 
“Poet of Methodism,” died first. A short time after his 
death, John Wesley then eighty-five years old, visited the 
town of Bolton, England, to preach. He began the service 
in his usual way, with song and prayer, and then gave out 
this for the second hymn, but when he came to the lines: 


“My company before is gone, 
And I am left alone with Thee,” 


his emotion became uncontrollable, and he burst out into a 
flood of tears, and sat down in the pulpit, covering his face 
with both hands. The effect upon the congregation was 
such as might be expected—the people ceased to sing, and 


382 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


in many parts of the chapel, sat down weeping and sobbing 
aloud. The congregation was very large, Saturday night 
though it was; and the place was like a Bochim. After a 
while Mr. Wesley recovered himself, arose, and gave out the 
lines again; “and then there was such singing,” said the 
narrator, “as I never heard before; it seemed as if the sound 
would lift the roof off the building.” A sermon followed, 
remarkable for the holy influence attending the delivery, 
and the deep impression it seemed to make on the multitude 
of people. 


No. 366. 
“ON JORDAN’S STORMY BANKS I STAND.” 
Rev. SAMUEL STENNETT, 1727—1795. 


Hon. Moses F. Odell, a prominent Methodist, was among 
the first, after the terrible battles of the Virginia Peninsula, 
to hasten from Washington to minister to the wounded and 
dying. He relates that the Government employed large 
steamboats to bring away from the field the severely 
wounded, and that while he was ministering to the suffering 
and dying on one of these steamboats, whose berths and 
cabins were filled with them. a soldier began singing to a 
familiar tune the words: 


“On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand, 
And cast a wistful eye, 
On Canaan’s fair and happy land, 
Where my possessions lie.” 


Almost instantly the strain was caught up by a score or 
more of the sufferers, who found in this way an alleviation 
-of their pain and an expression of their trust. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 383 
No. 366. 
“JUST AS I AM WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE ExuiottT, 1789—1871. 


The following fact is related by the Editor of the Ladies’ 
Repository, for December, 1867: “On rising one morning, 
the text ‘The blood of Jesus Christ his Son, cleanseth us 
from all sin,’ was impressed upon my mind so powerfully 
that I felt convinced the Lord was speaking to me, and for 
some special purpose. On going as usual into my district 
that day, I was met by a poor woman, who informed me 
that there was a person dying close by, who would be thank- 
ful to see any one, but so weak as to preclude all excitement 
or fatigue. I went immediately, and found a young woman 
almost in the last stage of consumption, scarcely able to 
speak; indeed she was in a dying state. I was afraid to say 
much lest I should agitate the feeble life, but just whispered 
in her ears the words, ‘The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, 
cleanseth us from all sin’; also the first verse of the hymn: 


‘Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me; 
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!” 


The dying one looked at me with great earnestness, as if 
drinking in the precious message, but spoke not then. I 
continued my visits after this during the short time she 
lived—about a month. On one occasion she called to her 
husband to ‘come and hear about Jesus.’ The last time I 
went she was waiting for me with great anxiety; and when 
I entered the room, and approached her dying bed, she 
sweetly whispered, ‘The blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, 
cleanseth us from all sin,’ 


384 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


““Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me; ° 
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!’ ” 


Looking at her infant child, whose spirit had just fled to 
glory, she said: ‘Baby, mother is coming to thee,’ and in a 
few moments she fell asleep in Jesus.” 


A young man was dying, but he knew he was lost, and 
was in a terrible state of anxiety. The clergyman was sent 
for. He came, and read and administered the Sacrament to 
the young man, and told him he had nothing to fear. As 
soon as he had left, a friend said to the youth, “I hope you 
are happy, and can die peacefully now?” 

“No!” replied the young man; “I’m not happy. I have 
not peace, and I cannot die without that. What shall 
ilo??; 

Shortly after another friend went to see hin, and began 
to read him that beautiful hymn: 


“Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee, 
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!” 


No sooner was the first verse read, than the dying youth 
looked up, and with deep earnestness said, ‘Read that 
again.” It was read over again, and he drank in every 
word, listening as for his life. As soon as the verse was 
finished he said, “There, that will do; I can die with that.” 
The dear fellow there and then came to Jesus, “just as he 
was, without one plea,” without one solitary spark of good- 
ness—he came with all his deep need, and the Lord saved 
him, 
“W. E.,” in Episcopal Recorder, October 15, 1885. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 385 
No. 367. 


“GREAT GOD! WHAT DO I SEE AND HEAR.” 


Rev. WM. Bens. Couiysr, 1781—1854. 


After the World’s Fair of 1851, at London, was over, the 
Crystal Palace was carefully taken down, and the material 
removed to Sydenham, where it was rebuilt, and became 
one of the fixed institutions of London. Rev. Samuel M. 
Dickson describes a musical service he once listened to there 
as follows: “Hark! is that thunder? It has the sound of 
thunder, and surely the clouds threatened it; but the truth 
is, a man has climbed away up to the key-board of the 
grand organ, and touched it! O, the witchery of glass walls! 
They imprison the sounds, but give the illusion of uncon- 
fined space. The music rolls around the arches of the sky, 
wave upon wave of sound repeating and echoing in the dis- 
tance. Now there is a short, sharp piercing note—now a 
long swell rolling and widening till aisles and corridors are 
filled; then it gradually lingers into silence, or melts into a 
soft flute-like strain. Now there is a crash, a leap, a suc- 
cession of booming discharges, and rattling, galloping rever- 
berations, ending in a prolonged swell and a sudden stop. 
Fitting prelude to what is to follow. By hundreds and 
thousands the singers are gathering into the orchestra 
around the base of the organ. Soon five thousand voices 
wait to accompany the monster instrument, and they are 
children’s; for the school houses of London are empty to- 
day, and this is the annual jubilee concert. No wonder is it 
that, as you stand upon your seat and survey the audience, 
the crowd of heads may be measured by acres; no wonder 
that they crowd the galleries, and perch upon cornices, and 
climb into every available nook and crevice. And now, just 
at three o’clock, a little man with a long baton springs upon 
a stand in front, telegraphs to the organist and the concert 
begins. The opening hymn is this beginning: 


386 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘Great God! What do I see and hear! 
The end of things created! 

The Judge of mankind doth appear, 
On clouds of glory seated: 

The trumpet sounds! the graves restore 

The dead which they contained before! 
Prepare, my soul, to meet Him.’ 


Imagine the effect, when at the end of the fourth line there 
was a short pause, after which an invisible trumpet pealed 
a long and sweeping blast, followed by the words: 


‘The trumpet sounds! the graves restore.’” etc. 


No. 368. 
“QO THOU MY SOUL, BLESS GOD THE LORD.” 


Psaum 103, Scotch. 


A clergyman who had been engaged as Seaman’s Chap- 
lain, at a Southern port, was, in the course of duty, called to 
the sick bed of a sailor, apparently at the gates of death 
from the effects of his licentiousness. He addressed him 
affectionately on the state of his soul. With a curse the 
sick man bade him begone and not harass his dying bed. 
The chaplain, however, told him plainly he would speak, 
and he must hear, for his soul was in jeopardy of eternal 
death. The man, however, remained silent, and even pre- 
tended to sleep during his faithful. address and prayer. 
Again and again the visit was repeated with similar success. 
One day, however, the sick man made use of an expression, 
by which the chaplain suspected he was a Scotchman. To 
make sure of the fact, the chaplain repeated a verse of that 
version of the one hundred and third Psalm, still in use 
among the Churches of Scotland: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 387 


“Such pity as a father hath 
Unto his children dear; 

Like pity shows the Lord to such 
As worship Him in fear.” 


The chords of the sick man’s heart vibrated to the well- 
known language. His eyes glistened with unknown mois- 
ture. The chaplain prosecuted his advantage. Knowing 
the universality of religious instruction among the Scotch, 
he ventured an allusion to his mother. The poor prodigal 
burst into tears. He admitted himself to be the child of a 
praying mother, who had often commended him to God. He 
had left her long before to become a wanderer on the face 
of the great deep. No longer did he repel the kind attentions 
of the chaplain, and his monitor had the satisfaction of 
seeing him recover from his sickness, and arise from his bed, 
he verily believes, a child of God. 


No. 369. 
“GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY.” 


Witu1aAm Cowper, 1731—1800. 


In Whittle’s life of Philip P. Bliss, the following incident 
is related: On a Sunday afternoon when a Gospel meeting 
was being held at the skating rink in St. Louis, by Messrs. 
Whittle and Bliss, there came up a fearful storm of wind and 
rain. The old timbers quivered ominously. Whittle was 
speaking, but the noise was so great as to cause him to stop. 
The storm continuing, plain symptoms of alarm were be- 
coming visible in the audience. Mr. Bliss, noticing this, by 
an inspiration from God, struck up a verse of the grand old 
hymn: 


388 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“God moves in a mysterious way 
His wonders to perform; 
He plants His footsteps in the sea, 
And rides upon the storm.” 


The storm was at its fiercest. Just as he sang the words, 
“And rides upon the storm,” there was an instantaneous 
cessation of the storm; a little break occurred in the cloud, 
and a bright ray of brilliant light flashed directly and fully 
for a moment upon his face. His wife had been uneasy, and 
asked of the one who sat by her side if there was any 
danger. She was reassured, and when the incident occurred, 
she smiled and nodded saying by both look and manner 
“all is safe for He Who rides upon the storm, has sent 
the brightness of His sunshine upon us at this moment, as 
He sent the rainbow.” 


No. 370. 
“MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE.” 


Ray. Ray PaumMesr, 1808—1887. 


During the Civil War in America, and on the evening 
preceding one of the most terrible battles of the war, some 
six or eight Christian young men, who were looking forward 
to the deadly strife, met together in one of their tents for 
prayer. After spending some time in committing themselves 
to God, and in Christian conversation, and freely speaking 
together of the probability that they would not all of them 
survive the morrow, it was suggested by one of the number 
that they should draw up a paper expressive of the feelings 
with which they went to stand face to face with death, and 
all sign it; and that this should be left as a testimony to 
the friends of such of them as might fall. This was unani- 
mously agreed to; and, after consultation, it was decided 
that a copy of this hymn should be written out, and that 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 389 


each should subscribe his name to it, so that father, mother, 
brother, or sister, might know in what spirit they had laid 
down thein lives. Of course they did not all meet again. 
The incident was related afterward by one who survived 
the battle. 

Ray Paumer, in appendix to his “Poetical Works.” 


An active business man, residing in the interior of the 
state, was accustomed to visit the City of New York from 
time to time for business purposes. Before coming on a 
certain occasion, he had observed a swelling slowly forming 
on his person, which, though not troublesome as yet, occa- 
sioned him some anxiety; and, after attending to the matters 
for which he came, he went to submit the case to the judg- 
ment of an eminent surgeon. He was frankly told that it 
would prove a malignant tumor, and would probably termi- 
nate his life by the end of six months. This was, of course, 
a stunning blow. He was an intellectual believer in Chris- 
tianity, and a man of upright life, but was without a 
Christian hope. Before leaving the City, he called on a 
a sister, we believe—and told her what the 
surgeon had said. On parting from her, she placed in his 
hand a printed leaflet, which he put in his pocket. Then 
he took the cars on the Hudson River Road, and, when 
seated, sank into profound thought on his position. He 
recalled his past life, so filled with the divine goodness, 
his sinful neglect to return this with love and obedience, 
and his failure to receive the Savior of the world into his 
heart. Some hours, perhaps, had passed in this way, and 
his heart had become full of tender feeling, when he remem- 
bered the leaflet and took it from his pocket. At once his 
eye rested on the words: 


“My faith looks up to Thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary!” 








He read the hymn through slowly, and many times over. 
His heart adopted the language, a new-born faith found 


390 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


full and delightful expression in it, and from that time he 
had a tranquil rest in God. The prediction of the surgeon 
was fulfilled; and he died joyfully, having this song sung to 
him to the last. 


The author of this hymn makes public the following inci- 
dent concerning it. It is quoted from a letter, from a young 
lady who had long been a sufferer from a chronic disease: 

“One morning, long ago, I woke with more than the usual 
exhaustion, and a sense of discouragement amounting to 
oppression. Do you know that kind of despair so like suffo- 
cation? Bitter repinings rose in my heart; hard thoughts 
of God and sinful questionings. Why must it be? What 
shall I do? I heard the rain beating against the windows. 
I knew the day must be dreary, and I sighed aloud, ‘What 
will there be to cheer me today?’ And then I hastily 
glanced about the room, gladly discovering that I was alone, 
and turning again to my pillow wearily. Hark! the chords 
of a piano! The family must be at morning worship. Up 
through the register, as distinctly as if breathed at my 
bedside, came the strain: 


‘My faith looks up to Thee, 
Thou Lamb of Calvary, 
Savior Divine!’ 


I enjoyed it and listened eagerly. 


‘Now hear me while I pray, 
Take all my guilt away, 
O let me from this day 

Be wholly Thine.’ 


T felt calmed. I would look up for cheer. I could not say 
that dismal morning, ‘Thou O Christ, art all I want’; but 
I could say, ‘My faith looks up to Thee.’ Afterward for 
several days and nights, I repeated the hymn constantly, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 391 


especially the stanza, ‘While life’s dark maze I tread.’ Maze 
was just the word for me. You know what a tangled wild 
my path of late has been.” 


NO-STT: 
“FROM GREENLAND’S ICY MOUNTAINS.” 


Rev. RecinaLtp Heser, 1783—1826. 


In 1852, two missionaries were sent out by Bishop James 
Osgood Andrews, of the Methodist Episcopal Church, to 
represent the South Carolina Conference on the Pacific 
Coast, where there was a grand rally of adventurers, a poly- 
glottal gathering of people of every realm and of every 
tongue. It was a fine opportunity for American Methodism 
to plant itself where such a wide and effectual door was 
opened. One of those missionaries wrote home. to report 
progress, and said how great was his joy one Sunday after- 
noon in 1853, in the Santa Clara Valley, to hear a man and 
his wife from South Carolina sing in front of a tent: 


“Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, 
And you, ye waters roll, * 
Till like a sea of glory, 
It spreads from pole to pole: 
Till o’er our ransomed nature, 
The Lamb for sinners slain, 
Redeemer, King, Creator, 
In bliss returns to reign.” 


There was melody in that song. It came so unexpectedly; 
the missionaries had seen the hills and valleys in all their 
natural luxuriance of flowers and foliage for several months, 
but that song echoing on the air was like new life to cheer 
the preachers in their toil. 


392 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 372. 


“WHEN THE HARVEST IS PAST AND THE SUMMER 
IS GONE.” 


Rev. SAMUEL F. SmitH, 1808. 


“In Clerkenwell a preacher and his helpers sang the 
hymn: 


‘When the harvest is past and the summer is gone.’ 


At one of the windows sat a poor man in an arm chair, 
looking very pale, who, before the meeting closed, sent for 
the preacher. ‘Please, sir, sing that again to me, that part: 


“When the holy have gone to the regions of peace.” 


That’s where I want to go. Do you think that I can get 
there?’ The preacher said he could. 

““But you don’t know the life I’ve led. You see, sir, I’ve 
been in prison thirty times, so I think I must be too bad 
for Christ.’ So the preacher read to him the story of the 
crucifixion. * 

“«That’s what I want the Lord to do for me,’ exclaimed 
the dying man, as the prayer of the dying thief was read. 
‘Thank you for coming out to preach and sing,’ he said, as 
the preacher departed. “The chaplain of the prison used to 
tell me of a Savior’s love, but I did not care for it then. 
But I want it now, for I do want to be saved.’ At the next 
meeting the poor man was not at the window. So the 
preacher went into the house, and saw that he was fast 
sinking. Faintly he said: ‘Sir, the mist is rolling away now. 
I can see Jesus. Do sing it to me.’ So the visitor sang: 


‘When the mists have rolled away.’ : 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 393 


Then the dying man said: ‘I could hear you all singing so 
plain tonight, “Crown Him Lord of all.” Will you please 
pray?’ The preacher prayed. Then the man said: ‘Please 
raise my head’; and with one hand under his head, and the 


other in his he passed away.” 
Christian Herald, December 16, 1886. 


No. 378. 


“CHRIST, THOU THE CHAMPION OF THE BAND WHO 
OWN.” 


Matruaus APELLES VON LOWENSTERN, 1594—1648. 


This was a favorite hymn of Niebuhr who was often 
heard refreshing his own soul amidst his intense labor and 
researches by murmuring it as a prayer: 


“And give us peace: peace in the church and school, 
Peace to the powers who o’er our country rule, 
Peace to the conscience, peace within the heart, 

Do Thou impart. 


“So shall Thy goodness here be still adored, 
Thou Guardian of Thy little flock, dear Lord; 
And heaven and earth through all eternity 

Shall worship Thee.” 


No. 374. 


“COMMIT THOU ALL THY GRIEFS.” 


Rev. Pau GerHarpt, 1607—1676. 


Rev. S. W. Christophers, in “The Epworth Singers” 
relates that “A venerable minister once said, ‘The first year 


394 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


after my marriage was spent in the South of England, and 
then I was called to take a pastoral charge in South Wales. 
My income had been small, and my expenses somewhat 
large, so that when the time of starting came, I had not 
money enough to pay my way to our journey’s end. We 
had done our best with the means we had, and were happily 
one in our repose on God’s fatherly goodness. I believed 
that He would supply our need day by day as He had 
always done, and in that full trust we went off on the top 
of the coach. Those were old coaching days. We had got 
about half way towards our destination, and when I had 
given the coachman and guard their fees, I had but twenty 
pence left in my pocket. We were to go into the inn while 
the horses were changed, and had to be booked for the rest 
of the journey. Where the amount of the fare was to come 
from, I did not know; but still, I rested on the promise of 
Divine help. As I got off the coach, that verse came freshly 
to my mind: 


“No profit canst thou gain 
By self-consuming care; 
To Him commend thy cause, His ear 
Attends the softest prayer.” 


And I lifted up my heart to God in the language of the next 
verse: 


“Thy everlasting truth, 
Father, Thy ceaseless love, 

Sees all Thy children’s wants, and knows, 
What best for each will prove.” 


As we walked through the lobby, I saw a paper on the floor, 
picked it up, and opened it. It was a ten-pound note. “The 
help has come in time,” said I to myself. But putting the 
note in my pocket, I called the landlord, told him that I had 
found a note which I supposed somebody in the house had 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 395 


lost. If he could tell me the amount and the number of the 
note, I would let the owner have it. There was at once a 
hue and ery throughout the house, “Who has lost a bank 
note?” Nobody claimed it; nobody could describe it. The 
horn blew; the coach was to start; we could not stay; and 
hurriedly giving the landlord my address in Wales, and 
assuring him that I would remit the amount lost as soon as 
the owner of the note was identified, we took our seats, and, 
by and by, safely arrived at our new residence. No news 
of the person who had lost the note ever came, nor has any 
claim ever been made on me from that day to this. How- 
ever, some people may account for the fact, there it is; one 
of many instances in my life in which God has shown Him- 
self near to help me in the time of need.’” 


No. 376. 
“JESU, THOU ART MY RIGHTEOUSNESS.” 


Rev. CuHartes Westry, 1708—1788. 


“Tt was nearly sunset,” said a traveling preacher, “and 
a mellow light was upon the valley up which I was footing 
it toward a village chapel. The light seemed to hallow 
the balmy quietness around me. I came at length within 
sight of a group of tin-washers. They were mostly young 
women in their picturesque sun-bonnets and working dress. 
They were gracefully using their long-handled instruments 
in regulating the action of the water on the pounded tin 
ore, as it was carried over a succession of sloping boards, 
so as to allow the cleanly washed tin to form a deposit 
beneath. They were singing in concert as they worked, and 
on passing the nearest point of the road to them, I caught 
some of the words of their evening song. The words came _ 
swelling up the valley: 


396 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘Wash me, and make me thus Thine own, 
Wash me, and mine Thou art:’ 


It filled me with sacred feelings as I passed, and the 
softening music followed. It was an agreeable preparation 
for the evening worship. The time of service arrived, and 
the same singers came with their parents, friends and neigh- 
bors, all decently dressed for God’s house, and true to the 
hour of prayer. I chose the same favorite hymn. New 
inspiration seemed to come upon them, and they made the 
sanctuary ring with their spirited, glowing harmony, as they 
sang: 


‘Jesu, Thou art my Righteousness, 
For all my sins were Thine; 

Thy death hath bought of God my peace, 
Thy life hath made Him mine.’ 


And so they sang the whole hymn through. It was a joy 
to hear from the lips of so many happy young people who 
had known the washing of regeneration, the words of this 
hymn, expressing their own experience, and the joy became 
deeper as their faces brightened or their eyes sparkled 
through their tears, as they listened to their preacher’s ad- 
dress on the words of Jesus, ‘If I wash thee not, thou hast 
no part with me.’ Every feature of the eager, upturned 
countenances seemed to respond, ‘Lord, not my feet only, 
but also my hands and my head.’ Nor will that parting 
music ever be forgotten; for as they went off in groups 
from the service, I could hear them singing along the hill- 
side lane: 


“Wash me, and make me thus Thine own; 
Wash me and mine Thou art; 

Wash me, but not my feet alone, 
My hands, my head, my heart.’ ” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 397 
No. 3876. 


“THE NIGHT WAS DARK; BEHOLD, THE SHADE WAS 
DEEPER.” 


This hymn is to be found in a book entitled “The 
Changed Cross,” published by A. D. F. Randolph. The 
title given to the hymn is “The Call,’ and no author’s 
name is given. In Long’s “Illustrated History of Hymns 
and Their Authors,” is to'be found the following incident: 
“An elderly gentleman came into our store one day and 
asked for a book entitled ‘The Changed Cross.’ He said 
it contained a hymn which led him to the Savior. Upon 
a little inquiry, he gave the following account: ‘Twelve ~ 
years ago, I was in a very agitated state of mind about my 
soul’s welfare. I was working in a store on Federal Street 
one day, when I felt unusually distressed. I went up to 
the third story. The window was slightly lowered—about 
a pane’s length. While there, and in this state of mind, 
there came suddenly a little slip of paper floating in at the 
window. I picked it up and found thereon these stanzas 
(drawing a worn slip from his pocket) : 


“In meek obedience to the heavenly Teacher, 
Thy weary soul can find its only peace; 
Seeking no aid from any human creature, 
Looking to God alone for his release. 


“And He will come, in His own time and power 
To set His earnest-hearted children free: 
Watch only through this dark and painful hour, ~ 
And the bright morning yet will break for thee.” 


I cried, “God be praised!” and I have been praising God 
ever since.’ On being asked how that piece of paper came 
there, and why, he said, ‘An angel sent it.’” The whole 
hymn consists of seventeen stanzas, and the two quoted 
above are the last two. 


398 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 877. 
“OUT ON AN OCEAN ALL BOUNDLESS WE RIDE.” 


Rev. WILLIAM FatrFretp Warson, 1833 (Methodist). 


In “Letters from Eden,” published by the American 
Tract Society, the following incident is related: A little 
boy named Simon Manoogian, living in Harpoot, became 
a Christian when nearly nine years old, and soon after he 
was bitten by one of the half-wild dogs which infest 
that city. A few months after the bite he said one day 
to his teacher, “I am sick; my head aches,” and the teacher 
sent him home to his mother. The next day he asked to 
have his pastor sent for, and on his arrival said to him, 
“TI called you to say how grateful I am to you for teaching 
me of Jesus.” The pastor read and prayed with him, and 
talked to him of the Savior and left him. Hydrophobia had 
now set in with all its attendant suffering and horror, The 
writer says, “I first saw him a few hours before his death, 
when I went expecting to see him ‘not in his right mind,’ 
as the people said he was. But this was because they had 
never seen such a death. Before we reached the house, 
he had requested them to call his teacher and schoolmates 
and, as I entered, was earnestly exhorting the latter to 
prepare to follow him. Said he to them, ‘When I reach 
heaven, I will pray for you, that you may come there 
too, and not go, like the rich man, where you cannot get 
even a drop of water.’ He asked each one to pardon every- 
thing which he had done to grieve him, and then said, 
‘Can we sing a hymn?’ When asked what hymn, he 
replied: 


‘Out on an ocean all boundless we ride, 
We’re homeward bound, homeward bound;’ 


Till then the paroxysms of the terrible disease had regularly 
interrupted him, but, when we began to sing, they ceased. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 399 


The soul’s power seemed -to overcome and control that of 
the disease, and he sang in a clear, strong voice with us. — 
When we reached the last stanza: 


‘Into the harbor of heaven we glide— 
We're home at last; 

Softly we drift on its bright silver tide— 
We're home at last. 

Glory to God! all our dangers are c’er, 

We stand secure on the glorified shore; 

“Glory to God!” we will shout evermore; 
We're home at last.’ 


None of us could sing that with him. And do you wonder 
that I was obliged to stop and weep as I gazed on the 
scene so new in this dark land? And do you wonder that 
the people, who had crowded in to witness the strange scene, 
thought him ‘out of his head?’ Not one impatient word 
escaped his lips. ‘In a short time,’ said he, ‘you will put 
my body into the grave. Do not do it weeping, but sing the 
hymn: 
“Joyfully, joyfully, onward I move, 
Bound to the land of bright spirits above.” 


And I in heaven will take my harp and join you in your 
song.’ ” 


No. 378. 
“I HEAR THE SAVIOR SAY.” 


Mrs. Atvina M. Hatt, 1818. 


Mrs. S. K. Brandagee in The Sailor’s Magazine for June, 
1880, says: “A few weeks ago, in our little country Sunday 
Echool, we were singing the hymn quoted, and as the chorus 
rose foud and clear, ‘Jesus paid it all, yes, all the debt I 


400 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


owe,’ my eyes unconsciously turned to a young man, singing 
so earnestly, tears filling his eyes. After school, joining 
me, he said, ‘I can never sing that hymn without tears; 
it was the means of my conversion two years ago.” A 
lawyer by profession, with a clear legal head, yet that 
simple hymn had, under the Spirit, conquered intellect, 
worldly tastes, and youthful follies, and led to an entire 
consecration to Him Whose precious Blood paid it all, long, 
long ago. 

“A lady, listening to the conversation, said, ‘Some years 
ago I was visiting a gay watering place, and on Sabbath 
evening, after some singing, not especially well suited to 
the Sabbath, I took my seat at the piano, with a prayer 
that the dear Lord would enable me, by my singing, to 
help some weary soul. I sang “Jesus paid it all.’ Two 
or three years afterward, visiting the same place again, 
a colored woman. came to me saying, “Yes, you are de 
lady; I knows you are.” 

“What lady?’ I asked. 

“De very one who sang, “Jesus paid it all?’ Last 
night one of the waiters comes to me and says, “ ’Tis de very 
one, I’s sure I ’members her. Don’t you know how sweetly 
she sang ‘Jesus paid it all, all de debt I owes?’ Yes, I 
neber forgets it “Jesus paid it all,” and I neber forgets de 
dear lady who sang it so sweetly.’ ” 

“Thus these sweet hymns, which reach the heart of 
learned and unlearned alike, seem to be only the beginning 
of that chorus, which will louder and louder grow, until 
the ‘Lamb That was slain gathers His elect together from 
the four quarters of the globe to join in the grander chorus, 
“Now unto Him That loved us, and washed us from our 
sins in His own blood, and hath made us kings and priests 
unto God and His Father, unto Him be glory and dominion 
for ever and ever.”’” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 401 
No. 379. 
‘STODAY THE SAVIOR. CALLS.” 


Rey. 8S. F. Smiru, 1808. 


Mr. Moody relates: “The last time I preached upon the 
matter of decision in religion was in old Farwell Hall. 
I had been for five nights preaching upon the life of Christ. 
I took Him from the cradle and followed Him up to the 
judgment hall, and on that occasion I consider I made 
as great a blunder as ever I made in my life. If I could 
recall my act I would give this right hand. It was upon 
that memorable night in October, and the Court House 
bell was sounding an alarm of fire, but I paid no attention 
to it. We were accustomed to hear the fire bell often, ana 
it didn’t disturb us much when it sounded. I finished the 
sermon upon ‘What shall I do with Jesus?’ And I said 
to the audience, ‘Now, I want you to take this question 
‘with you and think over it, and next Sunday I want you 
to come back and tell me what you are going to do with it.’ 
What a mistake! It seems now as if Satan was in my 
mind when I said this. Since then I have never dared to 
eive an audience a weck to think of their salvaton. If 
they were lost, they might rise up in judgment against 
me. ‘Now is the accepted time.’ We went downstairs to 
the other meeting, and I remember when Mr. Sankey was 


singing, and how his voice rang when he came to that 
pleading verse: 


‘Today the Savior calls; 
For refuge fly. 

The storm of justice falls 
And death is nigh.’ 


After meeting we went home. I remember going down 
La Salle Street with a young man, and saw the glare of 


402 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


flames. I said to the young man, ‘This means ruin to 
Chicago.’ About one o’clock, Farwell Hall went, soon 
the church in which I had preached went down, and 
everything was scattered. I never saw that audience 
again. My friends, we don’t know what may happen 
tomorrow, but there is one thing I do know, and that is, 
if you take the gift you are saved. If you have eternal 
life you need not fear fire, death or sickness. Let disease 
or death come, you can shout triumphantly over the grave 
if you have Christ.” 


No. 380. 
“PASS ME NOT, O GENTLE SAVIOR.” 


Miss Fanny Van ALSTYNE, 1823. 


Mr. G. W. Smart, a sailor missionary, writes in the 
Sailor’s Magazine for August, 1885, as follows: “Two 
American men-of-war have been here (Funchal, Madeira 
Islands) lately—the Kearsage and the Pensacola, The 
former came from the Congo River, and the latter from 
the States. The men of the Kearsage had forty-eight 
hours here. .They came on shore in two parties, eighty-five 
in the first, and seventy-eight in the second. The “Sailors’ 
Rest” was quite full for four nights. In addition to the 
beds, the cane sofas were occupied, and one man actually 
slept on the table in the reading room. Many of the men 
dined, supped and breakfasted at the ‘Rest.’ All were 
pleased that they had such a place to come to. An inter- 
esting incident occurred on one of the days. A man from 
the ship came in and asked leave to play the harmonium. 
He played several well-known tunes very nicely and then 
asked me for a Sankey tune book. I gave him one, and 
he commenced to play ‘Pass me not, O gentle Savior.’ 
Another man came in and sang it. A man who was in 
the dormitory came in with the tears streaming down his 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 403 


face, and coming up to me put a coin into my waistcoat 
pocket, saying as he did so: ‘Look here! that hymn has 
knocked me over. I can’t stand it. Take that for the 
Home.’ On looking at the coin, I was surprised to find that 
it was a sovereign. He requested those who were singing 
to sing the hymn again, which they did, and he became very 
much affected. He afterward told me his history. He 
and his brother had some money left them; he squandered 
his and went to the bad, while his brother continued in 
good circumstances. He has sat, on several occasions, in 
bygone days, at his brother’s table when the present Bishop 
of London, Dr. Temple, has been a guest. Now he is an 
able seaman in the American Navy. And this had been 
brought about by drink. He would not join his companions 
in drinking any more just then, but, of course, I have now 
lost sight of him.” 


No. 381. 
“I AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” 


Pure Buss, 1838—1876. 


“At a recent meeting in New York City, General Clinton 
B. Fisk spoke of his early associations with Jerry McAuley 
in the work, and of its extended influence. In Liverpool 
one night he heard a rough-looking sailor speak in a 
seaman’s mission meeting. Though the man was rough, 
his face shone. ‘I found Jesus over there in America,’ he 
said, and all who heard him listened in wonder. This man 
was known as ‘Swearing Johnny.’ ‘When we were paid off, 
I took my money to the saloons, and pretty soon I was 
drunk again. Then I went out into the streets, and the 
snow was beating against my face. As I passed along, I 
heard singing, and stopped to listen,’ he said. ‘I heard 
‘them singing “Jesus loves even me.’—“T'll go in and see 
about it,” I said to myself.’ He went in and there he saw 


404 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘that wonderful man, Jerry McAuley,’ and he led him to 
Christ. 

“*Yes,’ said his wife, ‘and its been nothing but Jerry 
McAuley and “Jesus loves me” ever since Johnny’s ship 


came home.’ ” 
Satlor’s Magazine, April, 1885. 


No. 882. 
“ONE SWEETLY SOLEMN THOUGHT.” 


Miss PHorsBE Carey. 


Were the incident I want to relate to you about this 
hymn found floating among the newspapers without author, 
I should not dare tell it, but it has for its authority Rev. 
H. D. Ganse, the well-known Dutch Reformed pastor, who 
furnished it to the Sailor’s Magazine. He relates that in 
the summer of 1881 he spent a few weeks at Geneva Lake, 
Wisconsin, and there became acquainted with a family in 
which there was a baby about a year old. Of this baby 
he says: “He was of beautiful, fair complexion and hair, 
with large blue eyes and ample forehead—a grave, manly, 
reasonable-looking baby, with as sweet an expression as I 
ever saw. I took to him at once and he allowed it, and I 
was seldom with him without having him a little while 
in my arms. After returning to St. Louis, since he was not 
in my congregation, I saw but little of him; but I never 
went through his neighborhood without scanning the baby 
carriages in hope of again meeting his sweet face. Once I 
was rewarded, about a year ago, and found him the picture 
of health and beauty. Having learned very lately that 
Captain Wade’s family had been very sick and that a 
child had died, I called upon the relatives in my own congre- 
gation to be informed of the facts, and was told, to my 
great sorrow, that the lost child was my little friend. 
But the narrative then given of the circumstances preceding 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 405 


and attending his death, while it greatly affected me, more 
than relieved my grief; for even the child’s death seemed 
to be ‘swallowed up in victory.’ The reader will remember 
that at the time of his death he was but three years and 
nine months old. Some weeks before, and while his health 
was still perfect, his attention had been attracted to 
Phoebe Cary’s well-known hymn, in the form in which it 
has been set to music and is commonly sung: 


‘One sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o’er and o’er, 

I am nearer home today, 
Than I’ve ever been before. 


‘Nearer my Father’s house, 
Where the many mansions be, 

Nearer the great white throne, 
Nearer the crystal sea.’ etc. 


These were singular words to fascinate such a child; but 
they did. Every night, after his prayer was said, and his 
mother had tucked him up in his bed and kissed him 
‘ood night,’ he would call out to his father with his clear 
ringing voice, ‘Nearer to home, papa’; when his papa would 
be required to come from another floor and sing him the 
whole song. The singing, however, was subject to such inter- 
ruptions as these: ‘What’s “great white throne,” papa? 
What’s “erystal sea,” papa?’ 

“Whether or not he came thus to understand the words 
and to have interest in their meaning will appear by what 
follows. Certainly he had mind and character enough for 
understanding them. One night, after his fatal sickness had 
been for several days upon him, his mother, exhausted by 
watching, had thrown herself down across the foot of his 
bed, committing him for the first time to the care of a 
competent nurse who had been a few days with him. When 
the nurse attempted, at the proper hour, to give him his 


406 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


-medicine, he called out like any baby, ‘Mama, give it to 
baby!’ His mother, rising at once to meet his wish, the 
nurse explained by saying, ‘Baby, mama go tired.’ Immedi- 
ately he answered, ‘Baby take it from the lady,’ and he 
did so regularly for the rest of the night; during the whole 
of which he made no call for his mother again, though 
he lay for a good part of the time wide-awake looking at 
her. With the same kind of thoughtfulness, when once 
informed why he should not, in his sickness, kiss his parents 
upon their lips, he steadily said thereafter, ‘Baby kiss you 
on the neck.’ 

“Such incidents will help us to judge how much intelli- 
gence there was in the sayings and acts that remain to be 
described. Let it be observed that he was as far as possible 
from fretfulness or complaining. When asked, ‘How does 
baby feel?’ his common answer was, ‘Better,’ or ‘Pretty 
better.’ Still his knowledge that he had done with this 
life, and was to have another, was perfectly distinct. Early 
in his sickness, as his mother came to touch his throat, he 
turned sadly toward her and said, ‘Don’t touch baby’s 
throat any more, mamma; baby’s going to die.’ 

“Later on, when the truth of his prophecy grew more 
apparent, his mother asked him, ‘Don’t baby want to 
stay with papa and mamma?’ He nodded his head. ‘Then 
pray to God to let you stay.’ 

“He answered very faintly, ‘You pray to God.’ 

““O darling!’ she said, ‘I have prayed so many, many 
times.’ 

“His answer was very striking: ‘Baby tired of praying 
to God.’ 

“On the morning of the day on which he died, his voice 
had grown very weak. He was seen to be trying to speak. 
His mother, bending close to him, heard him say, ‘Baby 
going to home.’ Scarcely believing what she heard, she 
“asked him, ‘Where, my darling? where are you going?’ and 
he answered, ‘Baby going to God.’ ” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 407 


A worker in Christ’s vineyard, who has done much for our 
sick and wounded soldiers at Washington, writes to a 
friend as follows: “The hundred hymn books you sent 
me will be very useful, and, I think, will do much good. 
There is one hymn in the book that I can never forget if 
I live a thousand years. It is the sixty-third, beginning: 


‘One sweetly solemn thought,’ 


I had held by the bedside of a dying soldier several prayer 
meetings; it was at the Patent Office Hospital, and the 
soldiers would gather round the bedside of this interesting 
Christian, and we would pray with him and them, read to 
them, talk a little, and sing several pieces out of the hymn 
book. This sixty-third hymn was his favorite, and he 
always wanted it sung. We used to sing it to the sweet 
tune of Dennis. One evening, just as the sun was setting, 
we went in, and he wanted us to have the prayer meeting. 
In the course of the service, I leaned over and asked him 
what we should sing. He said, ‘My hymn.’ We knew 
very well what it was, and sung it as far as the conclusion 
of the third verse, and there we had to stop. He actually 
went to ‘wear his starry crown,’ just as we were singing 
at his request, those very words.” 
Hacxett’s “Christian Memorials of the War.” 


No. 383. 
“IF YOU CANNOT ON THE OCEAN.” 


Mrs. ELLEN HuntTINGTON GATES. 


The ever-memorable fourth and closing anniversary of 
the Christian Commission was held in the Hall of the 
House of Representatives, Washington, D. C., on Sabbath 
evening, February 11, 1866. A great crowd filled the 


408 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


hall, overflowing the lobbies outside, and turning thousands 
away in a disappointed stream. The hall was draped in 
memory of the beloved dead, who by his presence graced 
the anniversary of the Commission, and by his tearful sym- 
pathy has made that occasion ever fragrant in the history 
and record of the institution. The Hon. Schuyler Colfax, 
Speaker of the House, presided. Precisely at seven o’clock 
the exercises began, by the singing of the noble hymn of 
praise: 


“Jesus shall reign where’er the sun 
Does his successive Journeys run, 
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, 
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.” 


The audience, rising and joining in the praise, was led by 
Philip Phillips, of Cincinnati. Prayer was then offered by 
the Rev. Dr. Boynton, Chaplain of the House, and the 
Scriptures were read, in the Forty-sixth Psalm, by the 
Rev. Dr. Taylor, Secretary of the American Bible Society. 
Speaker Colfax said, “I regret to inform you that the Hon. 
James Harlan (Secretary of the Interior) is detained by 
indisposition at home, and will not be able to be here 
as announced. Before singing the beautiful and impressive 
hymn, ‘Your Mission,’ next in order in the programme, let 
me read a brief note from the paper I hold in my hand. 
On the twenty-ninth of January, 1865, at the last anniver- 
sary meeting of this Commission, when hostile armies were 
contending together in deadly strife, this poem was sung 
as a part of the exercises of the evening. Abraham Lincoln, 
with his tall form, his care-furrowed face, and his nobly 
throbbing heart, was here, and after listening in tears, he 
sent up, written upon the back of this programme (holding 
up the precious sheet) in that plain familiar handwriting, 
by that hand that now lies cold in the grave, this request: 
‘Near the close, let us have “Your Mission” repeated by 
Mr. Phillips. Don’t say I called for it.’” It was this 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 409 


incident that gave to this hymn its special interest and made 
it so widely known and sung all over the land. In this 
connection it is an interesting fact that President Lincoln 
gave to two hymns such notice as to establish their popu- 
larity, the other one being the one beginning: 


“Oh why should the spirit of mortal be proud?” 


No. 384. 


“SAY, BROTHERS, WILL YOU MEET US?” 


Rev. George A. Hall relates that during the last year of 
the war, while engaged in the work of the Christian 
Commission in the Union Army near Petersburgh, nightly 
crowded meetings were held in a little chapel by the 
soldiers of the Sixth Army Corps, at which were “witnessed 
such scenes as have never been known outside of army 
lines.” The night before a fight on the left, the question 
was put to a most solemn assembly, “How many of you 
that are seeking Christ are ready to surrender to Him 
now?” In answer some twelve or fifteen came forward and 
knelt by the front seat, among them was an interesting 
youth. An old man, seeing him, darted from his seat and, 
pressing through the crowded aisle, threw his arms about 
the young soldier, sobbing, “My son, my son. He was 
lost and is found.” Just then an Adjutant from Division 
headquarters, apologizing for his intrusion, called out, “All 
men belonging to Division, fall in.” They were to 
march in the darkness of the night, to secure a position 
for the attack at daybreak. The men at the front seat 
arose, fell on each other’s necks and wept. Some of them 
were to go. The father was not in the Division ordered 
out. His boy was. The parting was tender and cheerful. 
He kissed him and said, “Go now, my boy, since the Lord 
is going with you.” There were hurried pledges to be faith- 





410 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


ful, and then they all took hold of hands around the altar 
and sang: 


“Say, brothers, will you meet us, 
Say, brothers, will you meet us, 
Say, brothers, will you meet us, 

On Canaan’s happy shore?” 


and hurried to their quarters to make ready to fall in. 
Some did not return from that fight. Two were brought 
into City Point Hospital badly wounded. They told us 
of the meeting, of their consecration, of their fearlessness 
in the fight, and their readiness to meet death, if it was 
God’s will. 


“Tncidents of the Christian Commission.” 


No. 385. 
“SHRINKING FROM THE COLD HAND OF DEATH.” 


Rey. CuHartes WesLey, 1708—1788. 


During the last days of Rev. John Wesley, he was accus- 
tomed to preach as usual in different places in London and 
its vicinity, generally meeting the society after the preaching 
in each place, and exhorting them to love as brethren, to 
fear God, and honor the King, which he wished them to 
consider as his last advice. He then usually, if not invari- 
ably, concluded with giving out that verse: 


“O that without a lingering groan, 
I may the welcome word receive; 
My body with my charge lay down, 
And cease at once to work and live!” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 411 
No. 386. 
“ALAS! AND DID MY SAVIOR BLEED.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


“Before me lies a letter written from a distant Western 
city in which the young man says, ‘Do you remember a 
hymn of Watts which you made us boys learn once, be- 
ginning: 

“Alas! and did my Savior bleed?” 


I thought it rubbish at the time, and had nearly forgotten 
it, but this winter some of its lines have followed me like 
a detective. We have been having revival meetings, and 
I couldn’t shake off the question: 


“Was it for crimes that I have done, 
He groaned upon the tree?’ 


Here follows the story of the revival, and of his own surren- 
der to Christ in the words of the last stanza of the hymn, 
which, doubtless have been the language of many another 
heart in similar circumstances: 


‘Here, Lord, I give myself away,— 
Tis all that I can do.’” 


Francis J. Dyer, in Congregationalist, March 24, 1887. 
No. 387. 
“ALMOST PERSUADED NOW TO BELIEVE.” 


Puiuie Buss, 1838—1876. 


“In a mission of this great city (New York) a few 
evenings ago, there sat among the motley and changing 


412 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


audience a young man whose face had a kindly look. All 
unnoticed he sat, till in a pause he rose, saying, ‘Please 
sing seventy-five,’ and took his seat. The first stanza of 
‘Almost persuaded’ was sung when the leader said, ‘I want 
to ask that young man if he is a Christian.’ Calmly rising, 
a young man of perhaps twenty years, fairly clothed, not 
a vicious but an undecided face, he replied, ‘No, I am not 
a Christian, but I learned that piece in the Sunday school. 
I was brought up in a quiet little country village in the 
southern part of the United States. There I went to 
church and Sunday school, where I learned this hymn. 
I always went to church till I came to New York, then I 
began to run around, but I never hear that piece sung but 
I am almost persuaded to become a Christian.’ I wish that 
I might record that he did then and there give his heart 
to Christ, but like too many others we fear he put it off 
to a more convenient season. The incident shows, however, 
the lasting influence of a hymn and how impossible it is to 
shake off the impressions they produce.” 
W. J. W. in Christian Secretary, September 2, 1885. 


No. 888. 
“IT WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. I ASK NOT TO STAY.” 


Rev. Wm. Aucustus MUHLENBERG, 1796—1877. 


A correspondent of the Religious Herald, of Hartford, 
writing of a revival in that city in connection with the 
noonday meetings of the Y. M. C. A., in 1885, says: “A 
few days ago, the proprietor of one of the drinking. and 
gambling hells of this city and also of a house of prostitu- 
tion in New York, was passing the above-mentioned prayer 
meeting. The windows were open, and the hymn, ‘I would 
not live alway,’ reached his ear. ‘Stop,’ said he to his 
companion, ‘listen to those words; they were sung at my 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 413 


brother’s funeral. Come,’ said he, ‘let us go in and hear 
the singing.’ They went in, and before the meeting closed 
he gave his heart to God. One week ago, he united with 
the church, and is now, so far as he is able, destroying the 
work of darkness he once builded.” 


No. 889. 
“DEPTH OF MERCY! CAN THERE BE.” 


Rev. CHartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


In the Fulton Street, New York, Prayer Meeting, a 
gentleman related his own experience, saying that he was 
some years ago sent from New York to Nashville, Tennessee, 
so that he might be away from his wicked companions. 
But he took with him his sinful appetites, and was there 
as here still bound by the slavery of the cup. He realized 
his degradation, but could not break his chains. He passed 
a rude place one day from which issued the sound of song. 
This was the song: 


“Depth of mercy! can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me?” 


As he leaned against the door, it gave way, and entering, 

he found a little congregation of colored people. Among 

them was a colored auntie who had long been praying for 

the poor man’s salvation. “Ah,” said she, “I know you 

would come.” 
“Oh, auntie,” he asked, “is there any hope for me?” 
“Oh, yes, for you,” and the colored saints sang on; 


“God is love! I know, I feel; 
Jesus weeps, and loves me still.” 


Weekly Witness, April 13, 1887. 


414 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 390. 
“J WILL SING FOR JESUS.” 


Puiure PHILLIPS. 


One evening a great throng had gathered in the Effing- 
ham Theatre, London, in connection with William Booth’s 
mission, to hear Mr. Phillips sing. He sang the song 
beginning “T will sing for Jesus.’’ The song was wafted to 
the ears of a despairing man, while on his way to the 
London docks to commit suicide. It arrested his attention. 
As he listened, the verse was sung: 


“Can there overtake me 
Any dark disaster, 
While I sing for Jesus, 
My blessed, blessed Master?” 


His purpose was thwarted. It brought home to his heart 
the memory of a mother’s prayers and praises in his early 
days, and brought him broken-hearted to the feet of his 
Savior. 

History of Hymns by E. M. Lone. 


No. 391. 
“TAKE THE NAME OF JESUS WITH YOU.” 


Lyp1A Baxter, 1809—1874. 


I had been sitting alone in the little chapel for some 
time, busy at the organ in preparation for a meeting, and 
was about to leave the room, when an old man, who had 
been in the reading room adjoining, came slowly toward me, 
and, lifting his face toward mine, said: “I like music. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 415 


Won’t you go back and play a little more for me?” He 
was eighty-four years old, as he told me afterward. His 
body was bent under the burden of the years, and as I 
seated myself again at the organ, he came and stood beside 
me, fully ripe, as it seemed for heaven. He was alive to 
only one great thought—Jesus the Savior and Master. He 
had been turning the leaves of the “Gospel Hymns,” while 
my fingers ran over the keyboard, and presently he laid 
the book before me, saying: “Play that slowly, and I'll 
try and sing it for you.” Softly and very slowly, I followed 
him as with a broken voice, often scarcely audible, he tried 
to sing: 


“Take the Name of Jesus with you 
Child of sorrow and of woe; 
It will joy and comfort give you, 
Take it then where’er you go.” 


It was little more than a whisper song; but as he took 
up the words of the chorus, a glad smile spread over his 
face, and his voice seemed to gather strength from his heart 
as he looked rather than sang: 


“Precious Name! O, how sweet! 
Hope of earth and joy of heaven.” 


It was true worship, the simple, glad expression of a 
loving, loyal heart. Verily, I sat alone with a saint that 
day, for as the other verses were sung, their wondrous 
meaning was interpreted by the face of the singer, and the 
veil seemed almost to fall away, revealing to me the things 
unseen. I had never seen the old man before; it is not 
probable that I shall ever see him again in the flesh; but 
his life touched mine with blessing that day, for he had 
unconsciously brought the Master very near. There was 
no tnusic in the old man’s voice; indeed, it could truthfully 


416 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


be said that he almost had no voice; but he drew a soul 
a little nearer to its Savior with what he had. 
W. N. Burr, in Illustrated Christian Weekly. 


No. 392. 
“LORD I HEAR OF SHOWERS OF BLESSING.” 


Mrs. EvizABeETH CopNER. 


In the year 1868 or 1869, the following note was read 
at one of the large union prayer meetings in the First 
Presbyterian Church, Rochester, at one of the E. P. Ham- 
mond meetings: 


“Mr. H.: Thank you for singing that hymn “Even Me” 
for it was the singing of that hymn that has saved me. 
I was a lost woman, a wicked mother. I have stolen, 
and lied, and been so bad to my poor little innocent 
children. I have no friend. I have attended your in- 
quiry meetings, but no one came to me on account of 
the crowd, so I went away always wretched, lost. 
But Saturday afternoon, at the First Presbyterian 
Church, when they all sung those beautiful words, 
‘Let some droppings drop on me, in blessing others, O 
bless me, even me,’ it seemed to reach my very soul. I 
thought Jesus can accept me, ‘even me,’ a bad, wicked, 
passionate mother; and it brought me to His feet, and 
I feel my burden of sins removed. Jesus has accepted 
me; even me. Can you wonder that I love those words, 
or love te hear them sung? Ah! may I too sing them 
when He shali take me before His throne at the last 
and accept EVEN ME. God bless you. 

Yours truly. 
A CONVERT.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 417 


No. 393. 
“Q GOD OF LIGHT AND LOVE.” 
Rey. R. C. Watterson, 1812. 


This hymn was written for the Annual Meeting of the 
‘Unitarian clergy and laity, Boston, May, 1845. The Hon. 
John Quincy Adams presided, and made the introductory 
address. The interest was very great, and it was throughout 
a most memorable occasion, by no one present ever to be 
forgotten. The following was sung as the fifth verse, in 
allusion to the venerable and illustrious presiding officer: 


“Bless thou the Patriot Sire, 
Who, warm with Freedom’s fire, 
Spreads light around; 
He like a rock has stood 
’Mid strife and fire and flood, 
True to his country’s good, 
True to his God.” 


The Rev. Dr. Pierce, with his snow-white locks, at President, 
Adams’ right-hand, led in the singing; and, when this verse 
was commenced, he lifted up his arm and pointed to Mr. 
Adams, at the same time raising his voice to its utmost 
power, the vast multitude heartily uniting. The enthusi- 
asm was literally beyond description.” 

“Singers and Songs of the Liberal Faith.” 


No. 394. 


“? AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” 
Pure Buss, 1838—1876. 


A New York City missionary one day came in his rounds 
to a small room in a tenement house, the home of a 


418 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


beautful girl and her mother. The thought of the poor 
young thing and her hard lot had burdened him as he 
climbed up the dark stairs, the heavy sewing machine at 
which she sat day after day wearing out her life. He 
wondered that even religion could keep pure and white 
one lovely blossom amid such trial and such temptation, 
and wondered more that she did not despair. No; as he 
neared the landing he heard a sweet voice singing. Opening 
the door, and meeting the violet eyes through a thick 
cloud of steam with which washtubs filled the place to 
suffocation, he could not help exclaiming: “My poor child, 
how do you stand it?” 

She sobered a moment; then catching up again the refrain 
just leaving her lips, sang on, smiling at him: 


“Oh, I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves me, Jesus loves me; 
I am so glad that Jesus loves me, 
Jesus loves even me!” 


No. 295. 
“WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS.” 


Rev. Horatius Bonar, 1808. 


A woman who, with her husband, had long been addicted 
to strong drink was at last reformed and converted through 
the influence of the meetings held at the Medical Mission, 
81 Roosevelt Street, New York. After some time, the 
woman received a severe injury to her leg, necessitating her 
removal to the hospital. 

“Tt was, indeed, a touching scene to witness, as the mother 
had to part with her two little children; but she-commended 
them to her Heavenly Father’s care, and, with a word of 
kindly warning to her husband to cheer up and look to the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 419 


Lord and mind not to take the drink, she left them. For 
some days the fever raged high, and part of the time the 
poor woman was quite delirious. One morning a stretcher 
was brought to her bedside to remove her to the operating 
room. She knew what it meant, and a shudder passed 
through her frame at the thought of what she would have 
to undergo, but she said: ‘I’m ready to go, bless the Lord, 
for He will be with me.’ Just then, though, a thought crossed 
her mind, causing a temporary feeling of depression. What 
was it? Why, she had heard that persons under the influ- 
ence of ether uttered strange things at times, and the thought 
crossed her mind that perhaps she might say some bad 
words such as she had been wont to use in days gone by. 
But so changed had she become now that the very thought 
of her giving utterance to these things was horrible. Just 
then she remembered the verse sung at the mission: 


‘Have we trials and temptations, 
Is there trouble anywhere? 
We should never be discouraged, 

Take it to the Lord in prayer.’ 


And so she lifted her heart to the Lord as the nurse lifted 
her body upon the operating table; ‘O Lord, keep the 
door of my lips’; and He did so. The operation was a very 
tedious one, needing the removal of a large piece of bone, 
and it was three hours before she came to herself. On 
doing so, her first question was not as to her leg being 
on or off, but, turning to the nurse, she asked, eagerly: 
‘Did I say anything wrong?’ On being assured that she 
did not, but had only whispered, ‘Safe in the arms of 
Jesus,’ she exclaimed, ‘Thank God!’” ' 
Medical Missionary Record, May, 1887. 


In one of the South Sea Islands recently visited by a 
missionary, he found that a couple of boys who had attended 
the mission school at another island had unconsciously 
effected the conversion of some of the natives by singing 


420 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


the Sabbath school hymns, “Hold the Fort,” and “What a 
Friend we have in Jesus.” At the first service held by the 
missionary, two men who had been bitter enemies came 
forward and openly made known their reconciliation. 
Foreign Missionary, March, 1884. 


No. 396. 
“NO MORE MY GOD, I BOAST NO MORE.” 
Rey. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


This hymn has for its title in Watts’ collection, “The 
value of Christ, and His Righteousness.” Mr. Cooper, a 
missionary to the East Indies, had been on one occasion 
preaching on justification, at a military station on the 
Malabar coast, and on giving out the hymn at the end of 
the service, which was the one hundred and ninth, of the 
first Book of Watts, he paused and remarked, that if any- 
one who did not come to Christ for the bestowment of this 
righteousness joined in the singing of this hymn, he was 
insulting God. One of the soldiers who was hearing him 
said he was thunderstruck. “What a wretch I must be, 
that I am prohibited from joining in the praise of God.” He 
went to the barracks under this impression, and found that 
without an interest in Christ he was a wretch indeed: and 
now, to all human appearances, he has fled for refuge to 
that atonement he had formerly neglected. 

Arvine’s Cyclopedia. 


No. 397. 


“COME HUMBLE SINNER IN WHOSE BREAST.” 
Rev. Epmunp Jongs, 1722—1765. 


In his “Revival Lectures,” President Finney says, “There 
is a hymn that has done great mischief. It begins: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 421 


‘Come humble sinner in whose breast, 
A thousand thoughts revolve.’ 


This hymn was once given by a minister to an awakened 
sinner, as one applicable to his case. He began to read, 
‘Come humble sinner.’ He stopped. ‘ “Humble sinner,” 
that is not applicable to me. I am not humble.’ Ah, how 
well it was for him that the Holy Ghost had taught him 
better than the hymn. If the hymn had said, ‘Come, anxious 
sinner,’ or ‘guilty sinner,’ or ‘trembling sinner,’ it would 
have been well enough, but to call him a humble sinner 
would not do. There are many hymns of the same char- 
acter. It is very common to find sinners quoting the false 
sentiments of some hymn, to excuse themselves in rebellion 
against God.” 


“One glorious day in June, accompanied by an officer 
of the Eighth Missouri, I set out for the rifle pits. When I 
reached them, I found the heat stifling; and as I bent to 
avoid the whizzing Minié balls and the falling branches 
of the trees, cut off by an occasional shell, I felt that war 
was a terrible reality. The intense excitement of the 
scene, the manly, cheerful bearing of the veterans, the 
booming of the cannon from the battlements and the heavy 
mortars that were ever and anon throwing their huge 
iron balls into Vicksburg, and the picturesque panorama 
of the army encamped below, obliterated all sense of per- 
sonal danger or fatigue. After a friendly talk with the 
men in the extreme front, and a peep again and again 
through the loopholes, watched and fired upon continually 
by the wary foe, I descended to the second ledge, where the 
sound of music reached us. We followed it quietly, and in 
a few moments stood behind a rude litter of boughs, on 
which lay a gray-headed. soldier, face downward, with a 
comrade on either side. They did not perceive us but sang 
on the closing lines of the verse: 


422 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘Come, humble sinner, in whose breast, 
A thousand thoughts revolve, 

Come, with your guilt and fear oppressed, 
And make this last resolve.’ 


I joined in the second verse: 


‘I'll go to Jesus, though my sin 
Hath like a mountain rose; 

I know His courts, Ill enter in, 
Whatever may oppose.’ 


“In an instant each man turned and would have stopped, 
but I sang on with moistened eyes, and they continued. 
At the close of the hymn, one burst out, ‘Why, ma’am, 
where did you come from? Did you drop from heaven into 
these rifle-pits? You are the first lady we have seen here,’ 
and then the voice was choked with tears. 

“TI said, ‘I have come from your friends at home to see 
you, and bring their messages of love, and the comforts that 
they want you to have.’ 

““Do you think so much of us as that? Why, boys, 
we can fight another year on that, can’t we?’ 

“*Yes! Yes!’ they cried, and almost every hand was 
raised to wipe away the tears.” 

“Woman’s Work in the Civil War.” 


No. 398. 
“NOTHING EITHER GREAT OR SMALL.” 


Rev. Proctor. 


In his book, “Bringing in Sheaves,” Mr. Earle relates the 
following: “A citizen, about thirty years ago, had such a 
elear view of himself as a sinner in the sight of God, and 
felt so deeply that he must have help or perish, that he came 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 423 


to my room, after midnight, to know what he should do to 
be saved. Oh, the agony of that soul! He walked the floor 
erying, ‘I shall perish! What shall I do? What shall I 
do?’ He kneeled down by a chair, and literally laid his face 
on the carpet. But he soon rose, saying, ‘I must be lost!’ 
His groans and cries were heartrending. I saw plainly that 
he needed to get a clear view of Jesus and His work, and 
asked him not to groan, but to be calm, and listen to me for 
a moment. After getting his attention, I told him that his 
tears and overwhelming anguish would not help him, but he 
must let go of all reliance upon anything but Jesus, and 
simply believe. I then repeated a portion of an old Scotch 
hymn (God be thanked for that good Scotch brother who 
wrote it.) 


‘Nothing either great or small, 
Nothing sinner no; 

Jesus died and paid it all, 
Jesus paid it all, 
Long, long ago. 
All the debt I owe, 

And nothing either great or small, 
Remains for me to do.’ 


“Looking up through his tears, he asked, ‘Is that it, Mr. 
Earle? Is that the way?’ 

“T replied, ‘That is exactly the way.’ But the light was 
not yet clear enough for him to fully embrace Jesus by a 
simple faith. He commenced groaning and pleading again, 
saying, ‘Oh, what shall I do?’ 

“T said to him, ‘Don’t groan; let me have your attention 
a little longer.’ I then repeated the last stanza of that 
beautiful hymn: 


‘Cast your deadly doing down, 
Down at Jesus’ feet; 

Stand in Him, in Him, alone, 
All glorious and complete.’ 


424 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


As the Spirit shed light upon his dark mind, he smiled 
through his tears, and said, ‘I believe that it is; yes, that is 
it. Jesus died and paid it all. I thought I must do some- 
thing, and could not see what I could do. How glad I am 
that I came here tonight. I can trust Jesus now; yes, I can 
trust Him.’ I then asked him to kneel down and tell Jesus 
he could trust Him. After doing this, he left me, saying, 
‘Oh, I am so happy now!’ ” 


No. 399. 
“QO JESUS, MY HOPE, FOR ME OFFERED UP.” 


Rev. CHARLES WesLeEy, 1708—1788. 


Those who are familiar with the “History of Methodism,” 
by Dr. George Smith, will not have forgotten the story he 
tells of a girl in Cornwall, who had been for some time a 
very great opponent of the revivals. She had been accus- 
tomed to ridicule the cries and groans of those who were in 
distress about their souls; but there was one defect in her 
mimicry. She had never really attended any of those prayer 
meetings. She was persuaded to go on one of these occa- 
sions, and the Spirit of God sent an arrow of conviction to 
her heart, and she who went to mock “remained to pray.” 
That night she was kneeling with the penitents; that night 
she was privileged to find peace with God, and rejoiced in 
conscious pardon, and the next morning when she met her 
companions they found a strange change had passed over 
her. They looked to her for mimicry, but they found noth- 
ing but serious earnestness. So, by and by, they began to 
persecute her as she had persecuted others. She happened 

oO wear earrings and it was at that time thought to be an 
offense against good taste and Christian propriety that any- 
one who was converted should wear earrings. It was pointed 
out to Mary that she ought not to wear them if she was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 425 


truly converted to God. She retained them for awhile, but 
at last her heart gave way, and as she was beating the ore 
to pieces with a hammer, she took the earrings, put them 
among the ore, and hammered and smashed them until they 
were a mass of shining metal, and as she struck them she 
sang the words of the hymn she had heard the night before: 


“Neither passion nor pride Thy cross can abide, 
But melt in the fountain that streams from Thy side: 
Let Thy life-giving Blood remove all my load, 
And purge my foul conscience, and bring me to God.” 


No. 400. 
“QO LORD OF HOSTS! ALMIGHTY KING!” 


Ouiver WENDELL HotMegs, 1809. 


This was called the “Army Hymn.” In compliance with 
a request of Congress, President Lincoln appointed the last 
Thursday in September, 1861, as a day of fasting and 
prayer. Nowhere was this fast day better observed than in 
the Union Army. A correspondent of the Traveller thus 
describes its observance in General Banks’ Division, then 
stationed on the Upper Potomac: 

“Yesterday, the fast day appointed by the President, was 
observed in this Division in a marked method. All drill was 
omitted, of course. Public services were held in a rare 
manner. In accordance with a general order, all the regi- 
ments in the immediate locality assembled in a beautiful 
field at the entrance to Darnestown village, with full bands, 
and the artillery and cavalry. The Major General, Briga- 
diers, and other high officers, attended in full uniforms. A 
march, varying from a short distance to a mile and a half, 
brought all together, when the infantry formed in mass, 
flanked by artillery and cavalry. Six chaplains officiated. 


426 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Assistant Adjutant-General Drake read the General’s order. 
Chaplain Gaylord, of the Twelfth Massachusetts, read the 
President’s Proclamation in a most impressive manner. 
Chaplain Reed, of the Thirteenth Pennsylvania, read selec- 
tions of Scripture, and the hymn: 


‘My country, ’tis of thee.’ 


Chaplain Phillips, of the Ninth New York, offered prayer. 
Chaplain Quint, of the Second Massachusetts, read the army 
hymn, and also made the address of the day; and Chaplain 
Lasher, of the Fifth Connecticut, offered the concluding 
prayer, and after the ‘Doxology,’ pronounced the Benedic- 
tion. The grand mass of soldiery, as brigade after brigade 
took their places in perfect order; the great number of State 
and National banners floating in the breeze; the respect of 
the men, with the devoutness of many, and especially the 
majestic music of the united bands pouring out ‘America’ 
and ‘Old Hundred,’ in which blended a multitude of voices, 
made it a scene long to be remembered. The author of the 
_ ‘Army Hymn’ has never yet heard his own poem sung in 
all its majesty. He never will till he hears it from thousands 
upon thousands of men in active service, waiting impatiently 
for the order to advance to victory, with the sunlight play- 
ing upon sabers of dragoons, on the pieces of artillery caps, 
and a forest of bayonets: 


‘O Lord of Hosts! Almighty King! 
Behold the sacrifice we bring! 

To every arm Thy strength impart, 
Thy Spirit shed through every heart! 


‘Wake in our breasts the living fires, 
The holy faith that warmed our sires; 
Thy Hand hath made our Nation free; 
To die for her is serving Thee. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 427 


‘Be Thou a pillared flame-to show 
The midnight snare, the silent foe; 
And when the battle thunders loud, 
Still guide us in its moving cloud. 


‘God of all nations! Sovereign Lord! - 
In Thy dread name we draw the sword, 
We lift the starry flag on high 

That fills with light our stormy sky. 


‘No more its flaming emblems wave, 
To bar from hope the trembling slave; 
No more its radiant glories shine 

To blast with woe one child of Thine. 


‘From treason’s rent, from murder’s stain, 
Guard Thou its folds till Peace shall reign, 
Till fort and field, till shore and sea, 
Join our loud anthem, Praise to Thee!’ ” 


No. 401. 
“JESUS AND SHALL IT EVER BE.” 


JosEPH Gricc, 1728—1768. 


In Rev. Rufus W. Clark’s life of John E. Emerson, it is 
related that while he was a boy an inquiry meeting was held 
in the church where he attended, at the close of which all 
who desired to converse with the minister on the subject of 
their personal salvation were requested to remain. John 
accepted the invitation and tarried. While sitting in his 
seat, he observed some boys in the gallery pointing at him 
- and laughing. The blood rushed to his cheeks, and feeling 
keenly their ridicule, he took his hat in his hand to leave 
the house, but just as he was rising to go these lines flashed 
into his mind: 


428 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Ashamed of Jesus, that dear Friend, 
On Whom my hopes of heaven depend!” 


In an instant he was ready to reply: 


‘No! when I blush be this my shame, 
That I no more revere His name.” 


Immediately he resumed his seat; laid aside his hat, and 
resolved that, God helping him, he would strive, in spite of 
every obstacle, to obtain salvation. 


No. 402. 
“CHEER UP, MY SOUL, THERE IS A MERCY SEAT.” 


Rev. JounN Newton, 1725—1807. 


In “New England Revivals,” by Dr. Bennett Tyler, he 
gives an account of a youth converted in a revival at Can- 
ton, Connecticut, who after struggling for salvation for some 
time says of himself: “I remained in this sorrowful situation 
for several days, seeking relief, but refusing the precious 
balm of Gilead. A certain Monday in this month was a most 
trying day tome. It seemed as if the whole universe gazed, 
with an eye of contempt, on its sinful, wretched inhabitants. 
But, Oh! the following Wednesday! May that precious day 
never be erased from my memory; the day, as I hope, in 
which God met my poor, perishing soul. Having taken up 
the ‘Hartford Collection of Hymns’ I began to read the 
two hundred and seventy-fourth: 


‘Cheer up, my soul, there is a mercy seat, 

Sprinkled with blood, where Jesus answers prayer; 
There humbly cast thyself, beneath His feet, 

For never needy sinner perished there.’ 


‘ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 429 


And truly, I said to myself, who can wish for a higher seat, 
than at the feet of Sovereign mercy? And my heart was 
now ready to thank God that I was in His hands.” 


No. 403. 
“HARK! THE VOICE OF LOVE AND MERCY.” 


JONATHAN Evans, 1748—1809. 


At the beginning of the nineteenth century the religion of 
the Shetland Islands was a degenerated form of the Pres- 
byterian Church of Scotland, that contained very little 
indeed of the life and power of Godliness. A mission of the 
Independent Church had been established and was begin- 
ning to infuse a more spiritual religion into the lives of the 
people. 

Sinclair Thomson, a young man of twenty-five, was a 
member of the established church of the island, not only in 
good and regular standing, but by reason of considerable 
musical skill, holding the office of precentor of the parish, 
the duty of that office being to conduct the singing on all 
occasions of public worship. And yet young Thomson was 
a smuggler, and the keeper of a gin house, a great stickler 
for the orthodoxy of his church, but a stranger to anything 
like vital religion. One Sunday morning in 1809, he, with two 
other young men, were on their way to the parish church. 
There was to be no service there, but it was the law that, 
whenever a wedding was to take place, it should be pro- 
claimed from the kirk pulpit three Sabbaths in succession. 
This was the duty of the precentor, and though no service 
should be held, still the proclamation must be made, and the 
two other men were taken along as witnesses. On the way 
the men became warm and stopped at a wayside cottage for 
rest and water. A woman was within, engaged in reading a 
little book: Thomson, finding out that the woman was not 


430 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


a member of the kirk, but of the mission church of the Inde- 
pendents, told her that. she was doing wrong and that on 
his way back from the kirk he would stop and have a talk 
with her about it. This he did, but his words were such as 
might be expected from such a one as he; more decided than 
winning. The woman sat in silence. Stung a little that she 
gave him no reply, and half conscious that she was “answer- 
ing a fool according to his folly,’ he became bitter and 
irritable in his language. Perceiving finally that he had 
plunged into a controversy where the contention was all on 
his own side, and somewhat at a loss how to close the inter- 
view, he finally asked, “Will you lend me that little book 
which you are reading?” 

She held it out to him at once, with the words, “You are 
welcome to it as your own.”’ He was surprised and pleased. 
The book proved to be on “The Propriety of Observing the 
Communion Every Sabbath,” and the reading of it led him 
to looking up the passages of Scripture to which it referred, 
and this again to still further investigation, until at last he 
came to a point where he concluded that his own religion 
was only a cold formal thing devoid of life or reality. His 
first resort for comfort was in a reformation of his life, and 
of increased zeal in outward religious duties. He estab- 
lished family worship, admonished his neighbors of their 
sins, abandoned his smuggling, studied the Bible daily, and 
in all these ways went about to establish his own righteous- 
ness. All this gave him comfort, but why it failed he did 
not understand. He longed for some good minister, in whom 
he could confide, to guide him in the right way, but no such 
one was at his hand. The “missionary preachers” were 
twenty-four miles away, and to them he could not go. At 
last light broke in from a quarter quite unexpected. 

He had by some means gained possession of one of the 
hymn books used by the Independents, and had learned 
some of their tunes. One day, while engaged in his house 
at some handiwork, he was singing some of those hymns 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 431 


to himself, almost unconsciously. It was the hymn com- 
mencing: 
“Hark! the voice of love and mercy 
Sounds aloud from Calvary; 
See! it rends the rocks asunder, 
Shakes the earth and veils the sky. 
‘It is finished:’ 
Hear the dying Savior cry.” 


Nothing in the hymn particularly drew his attention until 
he came to the last verse: 


“Now redemption is completed, 
Sin atoned, the curse removed; 
Satan, death, and hell defeated, 
As the rising fully proved. 
All is finished: 
There our hopes do rest. unmoved.” 


The last line especially impressed him: 
“There our hopes do rest unmoved.” 


He paused in his work, exclaiming, “Where, where?” He 
went back over the verses of the hymn to ascertain where 
the sinner’s “hopes do rest unmoved.” The Gospel pro- 
vision shone in upon his mind, the full, blessed beam of the 
Sun of Righteousness. Sinclair Thomson soon began preach- 
ing and became a great power for good all over Shetland, 
preaching for nearly fifty years. 

Sincuair THomson, or the “Shetland Apostle.” 


No. 404. 
“HEAR, O SINNER! MERCY HAILS YOU.” 
Rev. ANpDREw: Reep, 1787—1862. 


In his “Revival Lectures,” President Finney says: 
“T once heard a celebrated organist produce a remarkable 


432 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


effect in a protracted meeting. The organ was a powerful 
one, and the double bass pipes were like thunder. The hymn 
was given out that has these lines: 


‘See the storm of vengeance gathering 
O’er the path you dare to tread! 
Hark the awful thunder rolling 
Loud and louder o’er your head! 
Turn, O sinner! 
Lest the Henini strike you dead.’ 


“When he came to these words, we first heard the distant 
roar of thunder, then it grew nearer and louder, till at the 
word ‘louder,’ there was a crash that seemed almost to over- 
power the whole congregation. Such things in their proper 
place do good. But common singing dissipates feeling. It 
should always be such as not to take away feeling, but to 
deepen it.” 


No. 405. 
“FROM DEEP DISTRESS TO THEE I PRAY.” 


Mitts, Translator. 


This is a translation of a hymn by Martin Luther, who 
based it on the one hundred and thirtieth Psalm, which he 
greatly loved. This hymn took a great hold upon the 
German people when it was first written, and was very soon 
being sung all over the country. On the sixth of May, of 
the year in which it was written, a poor old weaver sang it 
through the streets of Magdeburg and offered it for sale 
at a price that suited the poorest. He was cast into prison 
by the burgomaster, but two hundred citizens marched to 
the Town Hall, and would not leave till he was freed. This 
prayer psalm had also its comforting power on the one who 
wrote it. When Luther, during the Augsburg Diet, was at 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 433 


the castle of Coburg, and had to suffer much from inward 
and outward trials, he fell into a swoon. When he awoke 
from it, he said: “Come, and in defiance of the devil, let us 
sing the Psalm, ‘From deep distress to Thee I pray’; let us 
sing it in full chorus, and extol and praise God.” This 
hymn was also sung at the funeral of the great friend and 
protector of Luther, Frederick the Wise, in 1525. And when 
the body of Luther, himself, was on its way from Hisleben, 
where he died, to Wittenberg, where he lies buried, it rested 
for a night, February 20, 1546, in the church in Halle of 
which Justus Jonas, the bosom friend of Luther, was pastor. 
This hymn was given out by Jonas, and sung by the thou- 
sands who thronged and wept around Luther’s coffin. 


No. 406. 
“T SAW ONE HANGING ON A TREE.” 


Rev. JonN Newton, 1725—1807. 


A little Sunday school boy was badly wounded at a spin- 
ning mill in Dundee, Scotland. After being taken home, he 
lingered for a few days and then died. His mother came to 
the mill to see the boy’s teacher, and tell him about his 
death. The teacher asked her how he died. 

“He was singing all the time,” said she. 

“Tell me what he was singing?” said the teacher. 

“He was singing: 


‘O, the Lamb, the loving Lamb, 
The Lamb upon Calvary; 
The Lamb that was slain, and liveth again, 
To intercede for me.’ ” 
Newton’s “Life of Christ.” 


434 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 407. 
“THE LORD’S MY SHEPHERD, I’LL NOT WANT.” 


Rey. WinuIAM WHITTINGHAM. 


Mr. Robert Pollock, author of “The Course of Time,” 
also wrote “The Persecuted Family,” a narrative of the 
sufferings of the Covenanters in the reign of Charles Second. 
It is the biography of the family of Rev. James Bruce, one 
of the clergymen who refused compliance with the orders of 
the king, and were therefore ejected from their pulpits and 
churches. After Mr. Bruce had been in this way turned out 
of both his church and his home, he retired to a little farm 
house four miles away from the village where he had 
preached, and continued preaching to such of his flock as 
he could gather together, in the fields and houses of the 
peasants. But soon the persecution became still more 
severe, and the ejected clergy were forbidden to preach 
even in the fields, and the people were forbidden under the 
severest penalties from giving them shelter or food. Mr. 
Bruce was now compelled to betake himself, with his family, 
to a wandering life, now sheltered in some barn; now in 
some shepherd’s hut; and now exposed without cover to all 
sorts of weather. A cave on the banks of the Ayr became 
a place of their frequent resort. It had been formed in the 
precipitous banks by the hands of men, as a hiding-place 
in the former troublous times of Scotland, and was roomy 
enough to admit five or six persons. The entrance to this 
retreat was by rude and difficult steps, cut out of the stone; 
and over its mouth, concealing it from view, hung the strag- 
gling branches of the birch and hazel, that had struck their 
roots into the seams of the rock. Two or three rude seats, 
some straw and blankets, made up the furniture of the cave. 
And to this place, in the darkness of the night, did the peas- 
ants of the surrounding country come with food for their 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 435 


pastor and his family, and to receive in return instruction, 
advice, and comfort. 

For nearly four years this cave was their home, and 
during this time many of his flock had been thrown into 
prison, and sent into banishment, had endured the cruelties 
of torture, or died on the scaffold, and although they had 
had many hair-breadth escapes, yet none of them had fallen 
into the hands of their enemies. 

On a Sabbath evening in the month of September, Mr. 
Bruce, with his wife and children, left the cave, to meet 
some of his flock, in a wild glen in the neighborhood, where 
he was to deliver a sermon. When they arrived at the 
appointed place, there was about a score assembled—some 
of them stood, some seated themselves on the cold turf, 
while Mr. Bruce took his station by a large stone, on which 
he rested the Bible, and read, or rather repeated, for the 
night was dark, the following verses from the twenty-third 
Psalm: 


“The Lord’s my shepherd, I’ll not want; 
He makes me down to lie 
In pastures green: He leadeth me 
The quiet waters by. 


“My soul he doth restore again; 
* And me to walk doth make 
Within the paths of righteousness, 
Ev’n for his own name’s sake. 


“Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale, 
Yet will I fear none ill; 
For thou art with me; and thy rod 
And staff me comfort still.” 


And then the people sang the words their minister had 
read, joined him in prayer, and listened to a sermon from 
his lips, and were just receiving from his hands the benedic- 


436 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


tion, when the services were interrupted by a company of 
soldiers, who had stolen upon them unperceived. They 
fled into a morass too soft to permit the pursuit of the 
soldiers who were on horseback, and so escaped except Mrs. 
Bruce, who was shot and almost instantly killed. 


No. 408. 
“WE ARE JOYOUSLY VOYAGING OVER THE MAIN.” 


Rev. Witu1Am Hunter, 1811—1877. 


Among the band of young converts, at Mr. Moody’s Sun- 
day school at Chicago, which all the time increased around 
him, was a little girl whose father owned a small vessel, 
in which he freighted lumber. Having given her own 
heart to the Savior, she tried to persuade her father to do 
the same. But he was a man having no taste for religion, 
though he was very fond of the child, whom he took with 
him on a certain voyage, during which she tried in vain to 
establish a prayer meeting in the little cabin, and to convert 
some of the crew. 

On arriving at the lumber camp, this little missionary 
commenced a Sunday school, as nearly as possible like the 
North Market Mission. Not content with this, and hearing 
of another encampment of woodcutters similar to their own, 
she opened a second school among them also. During the 
severe northern winter she presided personally over these 
institutions, riding on horseback through the woods every 
Sunday, after the manner of the early Methodist pioneers. 
It may be supposed that these two schools in the woods were 
of a very simple character, since the little girl herself was 
the entire force of officers and teachers; and all the library 
and literature in use among them was her own little copy 
of the New Testament. The result of her labor cannot now 
be given; but it is easy to imagine the tender interest with 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 437 


which these rough woodsmen sat at the feet of their child 
missionary, charmed by her Christian courage, and cheered 
by her simple faith. 

The lumber season being over, the little vessel started for 
Chicago. During the voyage a terrible storm arose, dis- 
abling the craft, and driving her rapidly toward a lee shore. 
The crew being completely exhausted, and expecting in a 
few minutes to be drowned, begged the little girl to pray for 
them, which she did, with the greatest composure. When 
she had told the good Lord all about them, and asked Him 
to take them out of their danger, if He thought best, and, 
above all things, to forgive their sins and make them ready 
for heaven, she began, in a clear sweet voice, to sing that 
little Sunday school hymn: 


“We are joyously voyaging over the main, 
Bound for the evergreen shore, 
Whose inhabitants never of sickness complain, 
And never see death any more; 
Then let the hurricane roar, 
It will the sooner be o’er; 
We will weather the blast, and will land at last, 
Safe on the evergreen shore.” 


With the song new strength and hope seemed to come to 
the arms and hearts of the crew; and renewing their efforts 
to weather the point which threatened their destruction, and 
aided perhaps by some slight change in the wind, or abate- 
ment of the storm, the little craft weathered the rocks of 
the headland close enough to toss a biscuit ashore, and then 
swung out safely on the open course for home. 
“TD, L. Moody, and His Work,” by Dantz.s. 


In the Life of “Uncle John Vassar” by his nephew, Rev. 
T. E. Vassar, occurs the following incident: “TI shall not 
soon forget the delight with which I first heard him singing 
a song, whose lively notes and cheerful, rejoicing confidence 


438 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


accorded admirably with his own spirit. It was toward the 
close of a crowded meeting in a long chapel. He rose after 
a prayer, and turned round in the aisle so as to face the 
congregation. His right hand held the left by two fingers, 
and kept it out of the way behind his back. Standing in 
his humble but easy manner, he began in a low voice: 


‘We are joyously voyaging over the main, 
Bound for the evergreen shore, 

Whose inhabitants never of sickness complain, 
And never see death any more.’ 


Warming as he went on, he kept looking over the audience 
to observe their feeling; and before he had finished he was 
clapping his hands quietly in time to the tune, and leading 
us all in the chorus, like an enthusiastic singing. teacher. 
The hymn, though familiar now, was then new to most of 
us, but we could not help joining with Uncle John, to the 
best of our ability, in the chorus. Few, perhaps none, went 
away from the meeting that night without resolving to 
secure transportation in that good ship, for which, according 
to his wont, Uncle John was looking up passengers.” 


No. 409. 
“ALAS! AND DID MY SAVIOR BLEED.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


In the same book, in connection with the last anecdote, 
the following incident is given: ‘‘There is one tune he used 
to sing which we call ‘Vassar’ still. The words he used to 
put to it were, 


‘Alas, and did my Savior bleed’; 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 439 


“There was a Catholic woman who would not listen to 
him or take a tract from his hand, but she finally did suffer 
him to sing. And to this tune, whose proper name I do not 
know, he sang the verse: Us 


‘But drops of grief can ne’er repay 
The debt of love I owe 

_ Here, Lord, I give myself away— 
Tis all that I can do.’ 


and at its close she was utterly subdued and ultimately 
became a true Christian. Her experience she used to sum 
up in the words, ‘Ah, those drops of grief, those drops of 
grief—I couldn’t get over them.’ ” 


No. 410. 


“THE VOICE OF FREE GRACE CRIES, ‘ESCAPE TO THE 
MOUNTAIN.’ ” 


Rey. RicHarD BurpsaLu, 1735—1824. 


In the autobiography of Dr. Lyman Beecher, it is related 
that: “One Sabbath evening, when there was a meeting of 
such persons as desired personal conversation on the subject: 
of religion, many persons being present, and while quite a 
number of those who used to come to his aid on such occa- 
sions were engaged in conversation with such persons as. 
had come up for religious instruction and guidance, he came 
to me and said, ‘I want you to sing now. We'll sing: 


“The voice of free grace cries, ‘escape to the mountain’.” 
He then called for the attention of all to the hymn which 


was sung by all who were disposed to take part. At its. 
close, he made a few remarks, and the conversations were 


440 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


resumed. The next day, or soon after, I met him, when he 
said to me, ‘Well, one person gave up his heart during the 
singing of the hymn, as he told me afterward, and probably 
there were others of whom I had not heard.’ ” 


No. 411. 


“WELCOME, HAPPY MORNING! AGE TO AGE SHALL 
SANS. 


This hymn was written toward the close of the sixth 
century, by Venantius Honorius Clementianus Fortunatus, 


Bishop of Poictiers. 
“Evangelical Hymnal,” No. 596. - 


Jerome of Prague, the celebrated lay reformer, after once 
recanting and acknowledging the errors of his companions, 
Wickliffe and Huss, and assenting to the condemnation of 
the latter, was troubled over what he had done and de- 
manded a new trial. At this trial he manifested great 
courage and replied to the charges of heresy with eloquence 
and power. He was, however, condemned to martyrdom, 
and burned at the stake. After he had been tied to the 
stake, he observed the executioner about to set fire to the 
fagots behind his back, and cried out to him, “Bring thy 
torch hither; perform thy office before my face. Had I 
feared death, I might have avoided it.” As the wood began 
to blaze he sang this hymn, which the violence of the flames 
about him did not interrupt. 


No. 412. 
“COME SAINTS AND SINNERS HEAR ME TELL.” 


In an address delivered at the Baptist Church, Hyde 
Park, Massachusetts, by Hon. Elijah A. Morse, in 1887, 


fel 


he relates the following incident: “Some time ago an old 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 441 


man came to me in Canton and said, ‘I am going to such a 
place, won’t you let me stay all night; I haven’t any money, 
and I can’t get there tonight; won’t you give me a place 
to sleep?’ 

“T have known the old man for several years, and I said, 
‘Come in, old man, and you'll be welcome.’ 

“Well, he spent the night with me, and in the morning he 
said, ‘Mr. Morse, you have been very kind to me; I haven’t 
any money, and I know you don’t want any money, but I'll 
tell you what I’ll do to pay you. I'll sing you a song my 
mother used to sing eighty years ago.’ 

“T called my little sons around me, and said, ‘Old man, let 
us have the song.’ It was about union with God. It went 
something like this: 


‘Come saints and sinners hear me tell 
The wonders of Immanuel, 

Who saved me from a burning hell, 

And brought my soul with Him to dwell; 
And gave me heavenly union. 


‘When Jesus saw me from on high— 
Beheld my soul in ruin lie, 

He looked on me with pitying eye 

And said to me as He passed by, 
“With God you have no union.” 


‘Then I began to weep and pray; 

I looked this way and that to fly; 
But still I found no refuge nigh; 
Then sought salvation for to buy; 

But still I found no union. 


‘But when I hated all my sin, 

My dear Redeemer took me in, 
And with his blood He washed me clean, 
And O what seasons I have seen, 

E’er since I felt this union. 


442 


STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘I praised the Lord both night and day, 
I went from house to house to pray, 

And if I met one on the way 

Always I found something to say, 
About this heavenly union. 


‘Come heaven and earth unite your lays, 
And give to Jesus endless praise; 

And O! my soul look up and gaze! 

He bleeds, He dies, your debt He pays, 
And gives you heavenly union. 


‘O, could I like an angel sound 
Salvation through the world around; 

Old Satan’s kingdom to confound, 

And triumph on Immanuel’s ground, 
And cause a general union! 


‘And when we reach those blessed plains 
Where love divine triumphant reigns, 
We'll bid adieu to all our pains, 
And join the sweet angelic strains, 
To one eternal union. 


‘There we shall see as we are seen, 
Without a veil of flesh between; 
And not a cloud to intervene, 
For all is pleasant and serene, 
In climes of heavenly union. 


‘Almighty God, teach every tongue, 
To shout and sing the Union Song; 

All praises to Thy Name belong; 

Let Zion sing, “Thy kingdom come,” 
And fill this world with union.’ ” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 443 
No. 413. 
“COME YE SINNERS POOR AND NEEDY.” 


JosePpH Hart. 


“When the richest American of his day was in his last 
fatal sickness, a Christian friend proposed to sing for him, 
and the hymn he named was, ‘Come ye sinners poor and 
needy.’ 

“ «Ves, yes,’ replied the dying millionaire, ‘sing that for 
me; I feel poor and needy.’ Yet at that moment the stock 
markets of the globe were watching and waiting for the 
demise of the man who could shake them with a nod of his 
head! ‘Poor and needy!’ How the sand sweeps from under 
a man’s soul in such an hour as that!” 

THEODORE CUYLER. 


No. 414. 
“GIVE TO THE WINDS THY FEARS.” 


Rev. Paut Geruarpt, 1607—1676. 
Translated by Rev. JouN Westey, 1703—1791. 


When the “Women’s Crusade” against the liquor saloons ~ 
was commenced in Ohio, this hymn was used before they 
started out on their first effort. The account is thus given 
in the Centennial Temperance Volume: 

“Mrs. Cowden, our Methodist minister’s wife, was then 
requested to sing a familiar air: 


‘Give to the winds thy fears, 
Hope and be undismayed: 

God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears; 
God shall lift up thy head,’ 


444 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


And while thus engaged the women, seventy-five in number, 
fell in line, two and two, and proceeded first to the drug 
stores, and then to the hotels and saloons. Thus the first 
brave consecrated company went out for duty for God und 
humanity in the Women’s Crusade. ‘Till the middle of the 
following June, they visited the saloons almost daily.” 


No. 415. 


“ES WOLL UNS GOTT GENADIG SEYN.” 
Rev. Martin Luruer, 1483—1546. 


“MAY GOD UNTO US GRACIOUS BE.” 


Translated by ArrHuR Tozer Russen, 1806— 


Spangenburg relates a story about this hymn. The 
Chief Councillor and Captain Commandant of the Duke 
of Regenstein, Hans de Lunderstedt, was a zealous advo- 
cate of the new doctrine, to which his master, the old Duke, 
was bitterly opposed. The old man had never read or 
understood a word of Luther’s teaching, and would have 
nothing to do with anything new. The priests had told him 
that it was execrable heresy that was now abroad; and filled 
his ears with all manner of evil reports. A preacher one 
_ Sunday allowed the people to sing for the first tme “Es woll 
uns Gott genadig seyn,”’ and also “Ein feste Burg ist unser 
Gott.” This was told to the Duke, and represented as a 
most disgraceful infraction of all Church order, and a most 
imprudent and outrageous attack on her doctrines. 

The Duke was furious. He went instantly for Hans de 
Lunderstedt, and ordered him to drag the rebellious preacher 
by the hair of his head to Halberstadt, to be examined as to 
’ these heretical hymns, and to suffer the punishment due to 
his wicked presumption. The wise commandant humbly 
besought the Duke to be cautious; for, after all, the hymns 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 445 


might not have been so bad as the priests had represented. 
He said that he was well acquainted with the offending 
preacher, and knew him to be a good citizen and a loyal 
subject, who would never allow anything improper to be 
sung in his church. 

The Duke, still angry, replied: “The hymns may be what 
they please; it is enough for me that they are Luther’s and 
therefore must be heretical. I will allow nothing of that 
sort in my duchy.” 

The captain inquired whether his grace really knew what 
the hymns were? The Duke answered, “Yes, one begins, 
‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott,’ and the other, ‘Es woll uns 
Gott genadig seyn.’ I will not allow any such stuff to be 
sung in my churches. Go and bring the insolent heretic 
before me instantly.” 

The captain quietly rejoined; “Most gracious master! you 
know my fidelity to your interests. I beseech you to con- 
sider well what you are saying, and wishing to do. Does 
not your grace want God to be still your stronghold? Are 
you not willing that men in your duchy should praise and 
glorify Him? Do you not also wish that God may be gra- 
cious to us now, as the hymn expresses it; and that men 
should call upon Him? Who else but God would be gracious 
tous? Is it the favor of the devil that we should seek?” 

The old Duke was struck by this representation of the 
matter, and the wise and good councillor went on to say 
that the hymns were not made by Luther, but that they 
were psalms of David, and words of Holy Scripture which 
Luther had only translated into German, so as to be under- 
stood by the people, and turned into verse, that they might 
be sung. The spirit of these hymns is only the spirit of 
prayer to God, bringing peace and consolation to poor 
troubled men. The Duke being now thoroughly interested, 
Hans read to him the whole of the hymns. The Duke was 
more than satisfied; his anger was turned away, and a desire 
was excited in haw to read Luther’s other writings. That 
he did so, and that he profited by the advice of his faithful 


446 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and pious councillor, we have good reason to believe, for 
shortly after he opened the door for the introduction of the 
new teaching into his duchy, and was a warm friend and 


patron of the preachers of the Gospel. 
Lutuer’s Table-Talk. 


No. 416. 
“NUN BITTEN WIR DEN HEILIGEN GEIST.” 


“NOW PRAY WE ALL GOD, THE COMFORTER.” 


Translated by ArrHur Tozer RusseEx, 1806. 


One of the converted students of Wittenberg was the son 
of the Burgermeister of Zullichau. The young graduate and 
divine preached the first Gospel sermon ever heard in the 
church of his native town. He began by singing the hymn, 
“Nun bitten wir den Heiligen Geist.” If the people had 
ever heard “Veni Creator Spiritus,’ the Latin invocation 
had fallen on ears unintelligent and unmoved, compared 
with the effect produced by the plain words heard in their 
own tongue from the earnest preacher. The Burgermeister 
was so enraged that he rose up and hastened from the 
church, exclaiming, ‘““Now we invoke the devil!” But this 
interruption only riveted the attention of the audience upon 


the son of the graceless father. 
Lutuer’s Table-Talk. 


A learned doctor in Frankfort was at one time earnestly 
refuting the new heresy of Luther. The people listened 
patiently for a time, but at length as with one voice, raised 
the tune to the hymn, “Nun bitten wir den Heiligen Geist.” 
The preacher recommenced after they had sung, but the 
people again interrupted him with the hymn, “Nun freut 
euch, hebe Christen, gemein”; (Dear Christian saints lift 
up your hearts in joy). The preacher was obliged to leave 
the ground in possession of his psalm-singing opponents. 

Lutuer’s Table-Talk. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 447 
No. 417. 
“SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER, SWEET HOUR OF PRAYER.” 
W. W. WALrForp. 


“NEARER MY GOD TO THEE.” 
Mrs. Saran Fiower Apams, 1805—1848. 


Mrs. Merriam Grant, one of the ladies injured in the ter- 
rible railroad accident at Chatsworth, Llinois, in 1887, tells 
the following pathetic incident of the disaster. She was in 
the rear car with her husband. In the car was a company of 
six people. In order that they might sit together, Mr. and 
Mrs. Grant changed seats with a young man and his bride. 
Their courtesy saved their lives, for the young people were 
both killed. Mrs. Grant thought this party were theatrical 
people, or concert singers, they were so jolly and sang so 
well. They could sing, and they laughed and told stories 
and anticipated the pleasure of the trip until late at night. 
Then Mrs. Grant composed herself to sleep in her chair, 
covering her face with her handkerchief. Nearly everybody 
in the car was quiet but the jolly party of six. About this 
time the young bride was requested to sing “Sweet Hour 
of Prayer.” Something in the desire to sleep and rest re- 
called the sweet old song. The young woman sang; all 
listened; while the train sped on. 


“Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, 
That calls me from a world of care, 
And bids me at my Father’s throne 
Make all my wants and wishes known.” 


There was a pause, and the clear voice went on again: 


“And since He bids me seek His face, 
Believe His word, and trust His grace, 
T’ll cast on Him my every care 
And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer.” 


448 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Oh, how little did the singer and her audience think that, 
to most of them, the morning would never come for another 
“Sweet hour of prayer!” And then what was it? Did they 
sing it as the last and most fitting song before closing their 
eyes to sleep; or did the angel of death bring the thought 
to their minds? Whatever it was, all raised their voices in 
that grandest of prayers, ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee,” and 
all, singing it, went to their death. 


“Though like a wanderer, the sun gone down, 
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone” 


went the melody above the roar of the doomed train. Their 
sun had gone down, but they did not know it. Darkness 
would soon be over them, but they knew it not. And as the 
little gleam of fire appeared, far down the track, their 
voices swelled in, 


“Yet in my dreams I’d be, 
Nearer, my God, to Thee.” 


The speed of the train increased down the grade. Again 
the song swelled: 


“There let the way appear, 
Steps unto heaven.” 


The way was already in sight: 


“All that Thou sendest me, 
In mercy given.” 


And then, with but a moment of life left for each—even 
when poor Edward McClintock’s hand was giving its last 
desperate wrench to the throttle of his engine—the singers 


sang: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 449 


“Angels to beckon me, 
Nearer my God to Thee.” 


Enough. It was finished. The engines struck the frail 
bridge and it sank. The car containing the singers crashed 
like a thunderbolt through the two cars in front of it, killing 
and grinding as a foot kills a worm. In the same instant 
another car crashed through it and the singers were dead. 
Peoria Transcript. 


No. 418. 
“HOW BRIGHT THESE GLORIOUS SPIRITS SHINE.” 


W. Cameron, 1751—1811. 


An evangelist, who did much for the temporal and spirit- 
ual welfare of the soldiers of the Crimean War, and by his 
cheerful manner won many of them to Christ, was return- 
ing one night from before Sebastopol to his comfortless 
lodgings at Balaklava, and wading almost ankle-deep in 
mud; he lifted up his eyes and viewed the bright, calm 
stars that shone overhead, and his soul soaring beyond 
them, he cheered his toilsome way by singing to a well- 
known tune the inspiring hymn beginning: 


“How bright these glorious spirits shine! 
Whence all their bright array? 

How came they to the blissful seats 
Of everlasting day? 


“Lo, these are they from sufferings great, 
Who came to realms of light, 
And in the blood of Christ have washed 
Those robes that: shine so bright.” 


Next day, as he was on his way to the trenches, he fell 
in with a poor soldier in miserable circumstances ; his cloth- 


450 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


ing was meager, tattered, and muddy, and his toes were 
sticking out at the side of his wornout shoes. The evange- 
list, Mr. Matheson, asked, in his frank way, how he was 
getting on, and seeing his wretched condition, gave him half 
a sovereign to buy a pair of shoes. The soldier replied, that, 
although he was far from being well or comfortable in mind, 
he was much better than he was yesterday. This excited 
Mr. Matheson’s curiosity, and he pressed him to tell why he 
was so excessively wretched yesterday, which he did with 
some hesitancy and reluctance. 

“As I thought,” said the soldier, “of all we had passed 
through since we came out here, that we had been before 
this ugly place so long, and that we appeared as far from 
taking it as the first day we sat down before it, I was per- 
fectly miserable, and could hardly have been worse; death 
seemed preferable to life, and I resolved I would kill myself 
and be done with it. I took up my musket and went down 
there about eleven o’clock last night, and was making all 
ready to dispatch myself, when a person I could not dis- 
tinguish in the darkness passed down near me, wading 
through the mud, but apparently in a happy mood of mind; 
for he was singing: 


‘How bright these glorious spirits shine’ 


in a tune with which I was familiar, and I said to myself, 
‘Well, now, this is very cowardly, for that man’s circum- 
stances are, no doubt, as bad as mine, and yet he seems to 
be happy’; but on listening to the words he was singing, I 
thought he must be in possession of a source of happiness 
and have a something to support him to which I was a 
stranger. I wished I only knew how to be as happy as he 
was, and with that I put my musket under my arm and 
returned, and I feel better today, and more resolved to bear 
the worst.” 

How great was his surprise to be told that the singer who 
had charmed away his evil spirit was now before him. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 451 


“Was it you? Then I won’t keep your half sovereign. I 
won't keep it now, for your singing last night has given me 
much more than I can express.” Mr. Matheson told him 
of his own source of happiness, and pointed him to the 
Cross and the Savior, and the unhappy soldier of the Crimea 
became a joyous soldier of Christ. 

K. P. Hammonp. 


No. 419. 
“THERE IS A GATE THAT STANDS AJAR.” 


Lyp1a Baxter, 1809—1874. 


At a meeting of the Wesleyan Missionary Society in 
_ Exeter Hall, London, in 1887, Dr. Wenyon, Medical Mis- 
sionary from South China, said: “A man came to me for an 
operation. As I found that the action of the heart was very 
weak, I asked if he could do without chloroform. He was a 
timid man. He was afraid, he said; but after considering 
a moment, he said: ‘I will stand it if you will let me sing.’ 
I said, ‘Sing away as much as you like, my friend.’ I began 
to operate, and he began to sing, in the Chinese version: 


‘There is a gate that stands ajar, 
And through its portals gleaming, 
A radiance from the cross afar, 
A Savior’s love revealing. 
Oh, depth of mercy, can it be 
That gate was left ajar for me, 
Was left ajar for me?’ 


I performed the operation, and still he was singing, and he 
never flinched.” 


Medical Missionary Record, February, 1888. 


A pretty commentary on the word “ajar” as used in this 


452 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


hymn comes from a little boy, and is related in the “Golden 
Rule.” 

“Ray,” I said, “set the door ajar for mamma.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” And the eager little feet rushed across 
the floor and opened the door wide. 

“Why, my dear child,” I said, “don’t you know what 
‘ajar’ means? It means that you should open the door just 
a little bit.” 

“The boy stopped in the middle of the floor, and gave me 
an astonished look out of his blue eyes, as he said, ‘Why, 
mamma! don’t you know the verse, “There is a gate that 
stands ajar?” And do you think that Jesus would open the 
heaven door just a little bit? I tell you “ajar” means very, 
very wide open.’ ”’ 


No. 420. 
“BRIGHT SPARKLES IN THE CHURCH-YARD.” 


This is one of the old-time slave songs of the South, sung 
by the Fisk Jubilee Singers. | 

“There were two young girls, and both were inmates of 
a gilded palace of sin in the city. One was hardened in her 
sin—the other had only waded ankle deep into the black 
moat which circles the walls of perdition. The other night 
they went to hear the Jubilee Singers, and sat unnoticed in 
the gallery. The sweet, tender music, so touching and true 
to nature, entered like a limpid stream into the soul of the 
younger girl, and filled her whole heart. She leaned forward 
and caught every word, with her eyes shining and her lips 
trembling. People turned round and wondered at the fair 
face, and watched her soul shining through her great eyes, 
but they never suspected who she was or whence she had 
come. There she sat still and immobile, with her small, 
gloved hands tightly clenched, and every nerve in her little 
body strung to an almost painful tension. All was still in 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 453 


the pavilion. The very gas lights held themselves motion- 
less, as if afraid to make a sound. The great audience was 
hushed. And then a note sweet and tender, but full and 
rich as moonlight, swelled and rose like a sea, and then, like 
a shower of pearls falling through the sounding waters, a 
woman’s voice sang: 


‘Bright sparkles in the church-yard, 
Give light unto the tomb; 

Bright summer-spring’s over— 
Sweet flowers in their bloom.’ 


The girl in the gallery gave a great, shuddering sob. The 
singer looked up and went on: 


‘My mother once— 

My mother twice— 

In the heaven she’ll rejoice, 
In the heaven once— 

In the heaven twice— 

In the heaven she’ll rejoice.’ 


“Again the girl in the gallery gave a long, shuddering sob, 
and hid her white stricken face in her trembling hands. But 
still the music fluttered about her like the rustling of an 
angel’s wings: 


“Oh mother, don’t you love your darling child? 
Oh, rock me in the cradle all the day.’ 


She sat still and heard till the last cadence of the music 
had wandered out into the moonlight, where the angels, who 
wished to learn it by heart, caught it up, and bore it in 
triumph into Heaven. ‘I must go from here,’ said the girl 
hoarsely, ‘Let me go, don’t follow me—I will be better 
soon.’ Her comrade reasoned with her, but she kept saying 
hoarsely, ‘Let me go—I will be better soon.’ She hurried out 


454 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and fled like a frightened deer. She was mad! Her eyes 
were hot and dry, her brain was bursting, and all the while 
a wondrous choir was singing in her ears: 


‘Bright sparkles in the church-yard, 
Give light unto the tomb; 

Bright summer-spring’s over— 
Sweet flowers in their bloom.’ 


“She fled like a hunted thing till the lights of the city 
were far behind and she was alone on a country road. She 
stopped to rest a moment, but the chorus went onward 
through the sky and she could not stop, for the words were 
beckoning to her: 


‘My mother once— 
My mother twice— 
In the heaven she’ll rejoice.’ 


“Tireless she followed on, on, on, the long, long night. 
The moon went down and she grew blind and staggered and 
groped her way, but still she said hoarsely, ‘I must go on. 
I'll be better soon.’ In the morning a farmer threw open 
his door and saw lying on his steps the soiled figure of a 
girl. He picked her up and laid her on his own bed, and his 
wife laid the wild, pleading face against her warm bosom. 
A stream of music reached the ears of the dying girl: 


‘Oh, mother, don’t you love your darling child? 
Oh rock me in the cradle all the day.’ 


She sank back with a weak, pleased smile. ‘Rock me,. 
mother, that’s it—oh! how nice—how nice it is. Oh, rock 
me, mother, rock me, mother. I am too tired to say my 
prayers tonight, mother. Let me sleep, mother, and kiss me, 
but let me sleep—sleep!’ And she closed her eyes and slept, 
and the choir in Paradise, lest they might wake her, sang 
softly: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 455 


‘My mother once— 

My mother twice— 

In the heaven she’ll rejoice, 
In the heaven once— 

In the heaven twice— 

In the heaven she’ll rejoice. 
Toronto Evening News, October 10, 1881. 


DB 


No. 421. 
“O, SING OF JESUS, LAMB OF GOD.” 


T. C. Kang, 1830. 


“In the year 1874, the Fisk Jubilee Singers visited this 
country. (England.) At this time a gentleman in London 
heard them singing the hymn, ‘O sing of Jesus, Lamb of 
God.’ He listened with manifest pleasure to the beautiful 
hymn, and so pleased was he that he offered the singers 
a sum of money if they would sing that particular hymn 
wherever they went. They promised, and one night, when 
singing it at a meeting at Dublin, a lady came forward to 
the president at the close, and told him that she had been 
wandering in darkness for thirty years, but that night 
she got her eyes opened while they were singing the chorus, 
‘I’m redeemed, I’m redeemed through the blood of the 
Lamb that was slain.’ The thrilling words had gone right to 
her heart, and revealed Jesus to her for the first time.” 

Christian Herald, January 27, 1887. 


No. 422. 
“PATRIOTIC SINGING.” 


I remember of passing, one hot day in the summer of 
1862, the mansion of a wealthy Virginian whose sympathies 


456 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


were strongly with the other side. Colonel Webster was 
riding some little distance in advance of the column, and 
as he arrived opposite the house, the blinds were suddenly 
closed with a loud slam, indicating that the lordly descen- 
dant of the Cavaliers was not over and above pleased with 
the approach of the Yankees. This act greatly amused 
the Colonel, and he laughed until he grew red in the face. 
Then, evidently having hit upon a pleasant expedient by 
which the recreant Southerner could be reminded of his 
abandoned loyalty, he allowed the regiment to pass on 
until the colors came opposite the house. The order to 
halt was then given, and the men were brought to the 
front. 

While they were wondering “what was up,” the band 
came down from the head of the column and formed in ° 
front of the house. “Now, Mr. Martland,” said the Colonel, 
addressing the bandmaster, “I want you to see if you can’t 
warm this old fellow up a little. He’s probably a proud 
descendant of England—most of these high-toned Virginians 
are—so suppose you give him ‘America,’ to start with; 
that’s partly English, you know.” And the concert began 
with the soothing strains of ‘My Country, ’tis of thee,’ 
the regiment lustily singing the last verse, but only a 
slight tremor was noticeable in the blinds—none of them 
was opened. “Now try ‘Yankee Doodle,’ ” said the Colonel. 
“Perhaps that will remind him of the way his forefathers 
and ours fought together in the War of the Revolution.” 
So “Yankee Doodle” was played, but still there was no 
evidence of life within the mansion. 

“I think he must be a hard customer,” said the Colonel. 
“Tt may be that the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ will fetch him. 
Try that.” And the beautiful strains of that grand old 
song were sent out with a sweetness that should have 
moved the old man’s heart if it had been as hard even 
as stone, but still the blinds were unyielding. Then the 
“Red, White, and Blue,” “Hail Columbia,” and other patri- 
otic airs were in turn tried, but still the old Virginian 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 457 


remained obstinate. Even “Carry me back to old Virginia’’ 
had not the slightest effect. Just as we were beginning to 
think that we would be obliged to give it up as a bad 
job, Martland struck up “Home, Sweet Home,” and the 
piece was rendered with a degree of beauty and feeling 
that would be hard to excel. As the last notes died away, 
the blinds flew open, and the door, too, and the old 
Virginian stepped out upon the piazza with a broad smile 
upon his face. He had surrendered, apparently only 
because he felt obliged to, but now that the ice was broken, 
he became genial and even hospitable. The officers of 
the regiment were invited in, and such refreshments as 
the house afforded were offered them, while the wish of the 
men, quite loudly expressed, that the old flag be put out, 
was complied with; and with the “Stars and Stripes” 
floating from an upper window, and the old man standing 
at the gate laughing, we moved on. 
Newspaper clipping. 1888. 


No. 423. 
“YES, MY NATIVE LAND, I LOVE THEE.” 


Rev. 8. F. SmiruH, 1808. 


Some fifty years ago there took place in a rural town 
in New York a simple service that touched the hearts of 
all who witnessed it. It had reference to the departure 
of a missionary for Oregon. The missionary was a young 
lady, greatly beloved in the town. She was a member of 
the choir or body of. singers. A hymn, then familiar, was 
given out by the minister, beginning: 


“Yes, my native land, I love thee.” 


As it was being sung, many of the singers were deeply 
affected, and one by one ceased to sustain the simple 


458 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


melody. The young missionary found herself at last sing- 
ing nearly or quite alone: 


“Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, 
Holy days and Sabbath bell 
Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure, 
Can I say a last farewell? 
Can I leave you, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell? 


“Yes, I hasten from you gladly— 
From the scenes I loved so well: 
Far away, ye billows bear me 
Lovely, native land, farewell: 
Pleased I leave thee, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell. 


“In the deserts let me labor; 

On the mountains let me tell 
How He died—the blessed Savior— 
To redeem a world from hell; 

Let me hasten, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell.” 


Years afterward, this incident was distinctly remembered 
when it was announced that this woman’s influence as the 
wife of a pioneer missionary had contributed much to 
bringing to the United States a territory larger in extent 
than Great Britain and Ireland, and nearly four times as 
large as New England. This vast region is now known as 
the State of Oregon, and the Territories of Washington and 
Idaho. In the spring of 1836, two newly married mission- 
aries and their wives began a bridal tour from New York 
to Walla Walla, a distance of thirty-five hundred miles. 
The expedition is now famous in history as ‘Whitman and 
Spaulding’s,” the names of the two clergymen who, with their 
wives, then started on horseback for the Rocky Mountains 
and the regions beyond. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 459 


In this sublime journey into the regions of nature’s most 
stupendous monuments, the health of Mrs. Spaulding failed. 
“To not put me on the horse again,” she said one morning. 
“Leave me here, and save yourselves for the great work. 
Tell mother I am glad I came.” But her strength revived, 
and she went on. Twenty-five hundred miles from home, 
the party looked down from the Pacific slope, and beheld a 
new empire. It was a July day, under a blazing sun. 
The crowns of mountains filled the air around them. 
Before them lay the vast and mysterious rivers of the 
Platte, Yellowstone, and Columbia, with their luxuriant 
valleys. 

The missionaries rested. ‘“Let us have a season of 
devotion,” said their leader. They lifted the American 
flag in the clear air. They then laid a Bible beneath it 
on the ground and opened it. Then they knelt under the 
flag and around the open Bible, and took formal possession 
of the western side of the continent for the Christian Church. 
Our history has few pictures that are more poetic. It was 
like Balboa at Panama or La Salle on the Mississippi. 

Youth’s Companion, March 19, 1885. 


No. 424. 
“1’M A PILGRIM BOUND FOR GLORY.” 


In “The Salvation War” for 1884, it is related: “In con- 
nection with the prosecution of eleven of our officers and 
soldiers in the university city of New Haven for singing in 
the streets, one of the most interesting episodes in the Army’s 
history took place. Against the attack made upon us at 
the instance of Christian authority, we were defended by 
a Jewish solicitor, who called upon the court to allow him 
to prove that the singing of our soldiers was neither irrev- 
erent, blasphemous, nor disorderly, but quite unobjection- 
able. So the eleven soldiers sang in court: 


460 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘l’m a pilgrim bound for glory, 
I’m a pilgrim going home; 

Come and hear me tell my story— 
All that love the Savior come.’ 


“Tt seems that they sang in the dock with their usual 
happiness, clapping their hands for joy. The female cap- 
tain explained that the object of the army in singing in 
the street was to beseech sinners to make their peace with 
God and to become good citizens. Judge Deming, to his 
honor, decided that we had not broken the law nor intended 
to do so.” 


No. 426. 
“Q TELL ME NO MORE OF THIS WORLD’S VAIN STORE.” 


Joun GAMBOLD, 1711—1771. 


In the life of Rev. Rowland Hill, by the Rev. Edwin 
Sidney, it is said that during the last eighteen months, or 
thereabouts, of Mr. Hill’s life, he engaged in almost every 
cause, with the impression that it would probably be the 
last effort he should make for it. His friend, Mr. George 
Clayton, in a letter to me, thus strikingly depicted his 
manner and feelings on one of these occasions: 


“The last time he occupied my pulpit at Walworth, 
when he preached excellently for an hour on behalf 
of a charitable institution (it was in the winter, twelve 
months before his death), he retired to the vestry after 
service, under feelings of great and manifest exhaustion. 
There he remained, till every individual save the pew- 
openers, his servant, and myself, had left the place. At 
length, he seemed, with some reluctance, to have sum- 
moned energy enough to take his departure, intimating 
that it was in all probability the last time he should 
preach in Walworth. Charles (Mr. Hill’s servant) went 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 461 


before to open the carriage door—the pew-openers 
remained in the vestry. I offered my arm, which he 
declined, and then followed him as he passed down the 
aisle of the chapel. The lights were nearly extinguished, 
the silence was profound, nothing indeed was heard, 
but the slow majestic tread of his own footsteps, when 
in an undertone he thus soliloquized: 


‘And when I’m to die, “Receive me,” I’ll ery, 
For Jesus hath loved me, I cannot tell why: 
But this I do find, we two are so joined, 

He’ll not live in glory and leave me behind.’ 


To my heart this was a scene of unequalled solemnity, 
nor can [ ever recur to it without a revival of that 
hallowed, sacred, shuddering sympathy, which it origi- 
nally awakened.” 


No. 426. 
“T HEARD THE VOICE OF JESUS SAY.” 


Rev. Horatius Bonar, 1808. 


A poor English girl in Miss Leigh’s home in Paris, ill 
in body and hopeless in spirit, was greatly affected by 
hearing some children singing: 


“T heard the voice of Jesus say.” 


When they came to the words “Weary and worn and sad,” 
she moaned, “That’s me! That’s me! What did He do? 
Fill it up, fill it up!” 

She never rested until she had heard the whole of the 
hymn which tells how Jesus gives rest to such. By and 
by she asked, “Is that true?” On being answered, “Yes,” 
she asked, ‘“Have you come to Jesus? Has He given you 


462 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


rest?” “He has.” Raising herself she asked, “Do you 
mind my coming very close to you? May be it would be 
easier to go to Jesus with one who has been before than 
to go to Him alone.” So saying she nestled her head on 
the shoulder of her who watched, and clutching her as 
one in the agony of death, she murmured, “Now, try and 
take me with you to Jesus.” 
The Sunday at Home. 


No. 427. 
“THOU GOD OF TRUTH AND LOVE.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. | 


Here is a love story in a hymn. The author remained 
single until forty years old. Then he began to doubt 
whether this was the proper thing to do. “How know I 
whether it is best to marry or no?” said he, and soon after 
he met a fine young lady in Wales, and she so impressed 
him that he concluded to ask his brother John about it; 
but John was a cautious adviser on such a delicate matter 
as this, although bold enough on ordinary occasions, and 
he “neither opposed, nor much encouraged,” the courtship. 
Then the lover went to another clerical friend. He also 
was cautious and advised him “to pray and wait for a 
Providential opening.” This he did. He prayed, and he 
waited, and the more he prayed and the more he waited, 
the more he concluded that he wanted that girl. And 
as he thought, and prayed, and waited, he writes that he 
“expressed the various searchings of his heart, in many 
hymns on the important occasion.” He has not told us in 
so many words which of his: hymns these are, but in the 
same year when he was married, he issued a volume of 
hymns containing quite a number of pieces entitled “Hymns 
for Christian Friends,” and there is good reason to believe 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 463 


that they are the hymns referred to and that they were 
first addressed to one Christian friend in particular. These 
hymns have required some alteration, as can easily be 
imagined, to fit them for our public service of song. 


Possibly some of you have thought of wedding days, and 
it may do you no harm to hear Charles Wesley’s descrip- 
tion of his. Here it is, taken from his diary: 


Saturday, April 8, 1749. 


‘Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridal of the earth and sky.’ 


Not a cloud was to be seen from morning till night. I 
rose at four; spent three hours and a half in prayer or 
singing, with my brother, with Sally, with Beck. At 
eight I led my Sally to church. Her father, sisters, 
Lady Rice (?), Grace Bowers, Betty Williams and, I 
think, Billy Tucker and Mr. James were all the persons 
present. At the church door, I thought of the prophecy 
of a jealous friend, that if ‘we were even at the church 
door to be married, she was sure, by revelation, that 
we could get no farther.’ We both smiled at the remem- 
brance. We got farther. Mr. Gwynne gave her to me 
(under God). My brother joined our hands. It was 
a most solemn season of love. Never had I more of 
the Divine presence in the sacrament. My brother gave 
out the following hymn: 


‘Come, thou Everlasting Lord.’ 


He then prayed over us in strong faith. We walked 
back to the house and joined again in prayer. Prayer 
and thanksgiving was our whole employment. We were 
cheerful without mirth; serious without sadness.” 


464 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 428. 
“WORSHIP AND THANKS AND BLESSING.” 


Rey, CuHarues Westy, 1708—1788. 


The title of this hymn given to it by its author suggests 
the circumstances under which it was written; it was 
“written after a deliverance in a Tumult.” It is scarcely 
conceivable to us that in England, a professedly Christian 
country, no longer ago than the time of the Wesleys, min- 
isters of the Gospel traveling from place to place, were in 
danger of being set upon by mobs, and their very lives put in 
jeopardy, for no other cause but the fact that they preached 
the Gospel outside the pale of the Established Church. 
But it is strictly true, nevertheless, and history records 
Many instances. Here is one recorded by Mr. Wesley 
himself. It occurred in 1747 in a place called Devizes. 

“After riding two or three hundred yards,” says Mr. 
Wesley, “I looked back and saw Mr. Merton on the ground, 
in the midst of the mob, and two bull dogs upon him. One 
was first let loose, which leaped at the horse’s nose; but 
the horse with his foot beat him down. The other fastened 
on his nose, and hung there, till Mr. Merton, with the butt 
end of his whip, felled him to the ground. Then the first 
dog, recovering, flew at the horse’s breast and fastened there. 
The beast reared up and Mr. Merton slid gently off. The 
dog kept his hold till the flesh tore off. Then some of the 
men took off the dogs, and others cried, ‘Let them alone.’ 
I stopped the horse and delivered him to my friend, who 
remounted with great composure, and we rode on leisurely 
as before till out of sight.” 

It was fresh from such a scene as this, that Mr. Wesley 
wrote this hymn and gave it this descriptive title. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 465 
No. 429. 
“GOD OF MY LIFE, WHAT JUST RETURN.” 


Rev. CHARLES WeEsLEy, 1708—1788. 


A few months after the conversion of Mr. Wesley, he 
was taken so seriously ill that he did not expect to recover. 
When restored to health, he wrote this hymn as a song of 
gratitude for his recovery. Some of the omitted stanzas 
refer to this personal experience. Like these: 


“Jesus to my deliverance flew, 
When sunk in mortal pangs I lay; 
Pale death his ancient Conqueror knew, 
And trembled and ungrasped his prey. 


“The fever turned its backward course, 
Arrested by Almighty power; 

Sudden expired its fiery force, 
And anguish gnawed my side no more.” 


No. 430. 
“GLORY TO GOD WHOSE SOVEREIGN GRACE.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


George Whitefield, the celebrated evangelist, was once in 
Bristol, England, and spoke of visiting America to en- 
deavor to convert the savages of the great Western continent. 
The friends to whom he spoke exclaimed, ‘What need of 
going to America to convert savage Indians? Have we not 
savages enough at home? If you want to convert Indians, 
there are colliers enough at Kingswood.” Kingswood was 
a wood near Bristol which had once belonged to the king, 


466 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


but coal had been discovered there, and in the time of 
Whitefield and of Wesley it was inhabited by a horde of 
lawless men, ignorant, depraved, and brutal. Whitefield 
and Wesley both preached and worked at Kingswood, and 
with such success as to change and renovate the entire 
neighborhood. This hymn is Mr. Wesley’s song of triumph 
over the success of the Gospel in working such a wonderful 
change. The reference to “senseless stones” and “repro- 
bates” and “outcasts” is indicative of the characer of the 
people of whom the hymn was written, and an omitted 
stanza is plainer still: 


“Suffice that for the season past, 

Hell’s horrid language filled our tongues; 
We all Thy words behind us cast, 

And loudly sang the drunkard’s songs.” 


No. 431. 
“QO LOVE DIVINE, HOW SWEET THOU ART!” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


At. one time Rev. William Dawson, the eccentric but 
very eloquent preacher, had given a very impressive sermon, 
and at its close had given out this hymn to be sung. The 
choir was singing the hymn beginning: 


“God only knows the love of God.” 


when Mr. Dawson shouted, “Stop, friends! If angels, the 
first-born sons of light, cannot understand the height, the 
breadth, the depth, the length of the love of God, how ean 
we expect to fathom it while here below?” and then he 
repeated with a feeling and emphasis that thrilled the 
whole audience and gave to the hymn and the sentiment 
it conveyed a meaning they never possessed before. “God 
only knows the love of God.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 467 
No. 432. 
“EARTHQUAKE HYMNS”—1750. 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


On February 8, 1750, there was an earthquake in London 
which greatly terrified the people, many of whom ran in 
hot haste to the churches and chapels as if they thought 
that these would afford them shelter. Just a month later 
there came a second and much severer shock. Charles 
Wesley was preaching at “The Foundry,” as his chapel 
was called, and had just repeated his text, when the walls 
of the building were shaken and the people cried out with 
fear. Mr. Wesley, always intrepid in the midst of danger, 
immediately changed his text and shouted, “Therefore will 
we not fear, though the earth be removed and the hills be 
carried into the midst of the sea. The God of Jacob is 
our Refuge.” And then he preached from this new text a 
sermon suited to the terrified condition of his audience. 
Many of the people thought the Judgment Day was at 
hand. Both the Government and the Church took steps to 
allay the alarm. Forms of prayer were composed to be 
read in the churches “by His Majesty’s special command,” 
and the highest dignitary of the church sent out a letter 
to the clergy and people on the same subject. Mr. Wesley 
thought this a good opportunity to direct the attention of 
the people to God, and the things of eternity, and so he 
issued a pamphlet containing nineteen hymns which were, 
as he said, “Occasioned by the Earthquake.” These hymns 
did much to allay the alarm of the people, and to turn their 
thoughts to religious matters. Six years later (in 1756) 
occurred the great earthquake at Lisbon, Spain, by which 
it has been estimated that’ sixty thousand people lost their 
lives in a few moments. This event again startled the 
people not only of England but of all Europe, and these | 
“Barthquake Hymns” were republished with three additional 


468 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


hymns, and again exerted great influence in quieting the 
people and in turning them to God. 


No. 433. 
“RIGHTEOUS GOD WHOSE VENGEFUL VIALS”—1756. 
Rev. Cuartes Wester, 1708—1788. 


The circumstances of the British Nation at the beginning 
of the year 1756 were such as to excite alarm in almost 
every way. A terrible disease had in some parts of the 
country swept away nearly all the cattle. An earthquake 
in Spain had swallowed up a large part of the city of 
Lisbon and destroyed sixty thousand people almost in a 
moment, and a dread of terrible coming events had pervaded 
all of Europe. The quarrel had commenced which ended 
in the old French War in this country. There were threats 
of an invasion of the land from France, and a great conflict 
between Catholics and Protestants seemed imminent. In 
view of all these gathering clouds, the King of England 
appointed a day of national fasting and prayer. The two 
Wesleys were patriots as well as preachers, and keenly alive 
to all that affected the welfare of the nation. John Wesley 
published addresses intended to warn the people of the 
impending dangers, and his brother Charles rendered a 
different but no less effective service by publishing a pam- 
phlet containing seventeen hymns, appropriate to the cir- 
cumstances of the times. This is one of these hymns. 


No. 434. 


“TO HEAVEN I LIFT MY WAITING EYES.” 
Rev Isaac Warts, 1674—1748. 


The first vaccination for smallpox was in 1796. Previous 
to that time its ravages had been terrible, and its appear- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 469 


ance as greatly to be dreaded as that of the plague. A 
young lady friend of Rev. John Newton, to whom we are 
indebted for so many good hymns, was away from home 
and desired to return, but hesitated because of the presence 
of the smallpox in the neighborhood, and so through a 
mutual friend she applied to Mr. Newton for advice. He 
replied, “Give my love to your friend. I dare not advise! 
but if she can quietly return at the usual time, and neither 
run intentionally into the way of the smallpox, nor run 
out of the way, but leave it simply with the Lord, I shall 
not blame her. My prescription is to read Dr. Watts’s 
Psalm 121 every morning before breakfast, and pray over 
it till the cure is effected—Probatum est.” And then he 
quotes a stanza from this Psalm, written in another meter 
from the one we have here, as follows: 


“Hast Thou not given Thy word, 
To save my soul from death? 
And I can trust my Lord 
To keep my mortal breath. 
I'll go and come 
Nor fear to die, 
Till from on high, 
Thou call me home.” 


“WHEN ISRAEL OF THE LORD BELOVED.” 


Sir Wauter Scort, 1771—1882. 


One would scarcely look for a hymn writer among novel- 
ists nor for a hymn in a novel. But here is a hymn by one 
of the most successful novelists, Sir Walter Scott, and it 
is taken from one of his most successful romances, “Ivanhoe” 
(1820). You remember how Rebecca, the beautiful Jewish 


470 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


maiden, is charged with witchcraft and sorcery, and tried 
before a tribunal of Knights Templars, and how when, 
after hearing the evidence against her, sentence of death 
is about to be pronounced, she appeals to the last tribunal. 
“There is yet one chance of life left to me,” she says, 
“even by your own fierce laws. I challenge the privilege 
of trial by combat and will appear by my champion”; 
and taking off her glove she flings it down before the Grand 
Master, who has conducted the farce of a trial. And then 
in the prison awaiting the day of combat, but knowing of no 
one on whom she can call to appear and defend her with 
sword and lance, but with full faith in the God of Israel, 
she sings her evening hymn of prayer and faith, in these 
words. 


No. 436. 
“THE GATHERING CLOUDS WITH ASPECT DARK.” 


Rev. Joun Newton, 1725—1807. 


Here is a hymn which should be of interest. to Americans, 
for although written in England, it was directly connected 
with the battle of Lexington, which began the Revolutionary 
War. That battle occurred on April 19, 1775, and the news 
reached England the latter part of May. On the last day 
of that month Mr. Newton recorded in his diary: “The 
paper this evening brought an account of the commence- 
ment of hostilities in New England, and many killed on 
both sides. These things, I fear, are the beginning of 
sorrows. O that I could be suitably affected by what I 
see and hear.” 

Mr. Newton at once called upon his people to hold 
extraordinary meetings for prayer on account of the times, 
and he records that although the first meeting was held 
at five o’clock in the morning, more people were present 
than usually came in the evening. On Sunday, June 11, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 471 


he preached a sermon on the times, giving a sketch of the 
state of the English nation, to arouse his people to more 
earnest prayer by “apprising them,” as he says, “ of the im- 
portance of the present crisis.” And this hymn was written 
to be sung on that occasion. It was also published the next 
month (July) in the Gospel Magazine. This incident throws 
a little side light on the history of the Revolutionary strug- 
gle in this country by showing how it affected the Christian 
people of England. 


No. 437. 
“AS THY DAYS, THY STRENGTH SHALL BE.” 


Miss Frances RipteEy HAvVERGAL. 


The author of this hymn has herself told how it came 
to be written: ‘The New Year’s Bells were ringing in St. 
Nicholas’ Church, close to our home. I was sleeping 
with my sister; she roused me to hear them, and quoted 
the text: ‘As thy days thy strength shall be,’ as a New 
Year’s motto. I did not answer, but presently returned 
it to her in rhyme (the two first stanzas). She was pleased, 
so I finished it next day and gave it to her. 


No. 438. 
“ALL YE THAT PASS BY, TO JESUS DRAW NIGH.” 


Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


Rev. George Whitefield, the celebrated evangelist, was 
once announced to preach in the market place at Notting- 
ham, England. People came from far and near to listen, 
for his reputation was great. Among them came a man 
from a neighboring town, and just as he rode up to the 


472 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


outskirts of the great crowd, Mr. Whitefield gave out this. 
hymn, and the first words that caught the newcomer’s 
ears from the great preacher’s lips were these: 


“All ye that pass by, to Jesus draw nigh 
To you is it nothing that Jesus should die?” 


The words seemed addressed directly to him, and the inquiry 
of the last line never was out of his mind, until he had 
answered it, that to him it was everything that Jesus had 
died. 


No. 439. 
“FIFTY-FIRST PSALM.” 


One of the earliest recollections of the New England 
children of a generation ago was the verses and pictures of 
the “New England Primer,” “which for a century and a 
half was in those parts the first book in religion and morals 
as well as in learning and in literature.” It contained that 
wonderful poetic alphabet which began: 


“In Adam’s fall 
We sinned all.” 


and ended with, 
“Zaccheus he 
Did climb the tree 
His Lord to see.” 


and it contained that beautiful cradle song beginning: 


“Hush my dear lie still and slumber, 
Holy angels guard thy bed.” 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 473 


It was embellished with cuts, and one of these was entitled 
“The burning of Mr. John Rogers”; and with the picture 
was the story of his martyrdom. He was a faithful minister 
of the Gospel, too faithful for his times. He incurred the 
displeasure of Queen Mary, “Bloody Mary” she was called, 
who confined him first in his own home and then in 
Newgate prison and then condemned him to be burned. 
The Primer tells the story how at Smithfield on February 
14, 1554, his wife and children tried to bid him farewell as 
he was on his way from the prison to the stake, but the 
cruel officers would not permit them to speak to him, and 
so the Primer says, “His wife with nine small children and 
one at her breast, followed him to the stake: with which 
sorrowful sight he was not in the least daunted, but with 
wonderful patience died courageously for the Gospel of Jesus 
Christ.” John Rogers was the first martyr in Queen Mary’s 
reign, and on his way from Newgate to Smithfield, he sang 
this fifty-first Psalm. 


No. 440. 
“HOLY GHOST, WITH LIGHT DIVINE.” 


Rey. ANDREW Reep, 1788—1862. 


We hear it said sometimes nowadays that a minister can 
tell a congregation all he knows in about ten years, and 
that about that time he had better go to a new place where 
he can preach his old sermons to a new audience. That is 
an unjust thing to say, usually, but now and then it is true; 
and pastorates are shorter in these days than they were a 
generation ago. The author of this hymn, as soon as he had 
completed his education, became pastor of the church of 
which he was already a member and of which his father 
before him had been a member too, and he stayed right 
there, an acceptable and able preacher for over half a cen- 


474 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


tury, until he died. In addition to his duties as a pastor 
and preacher, he became a great leader in philanthropic 
effort, and himself founded no less than six asylums for the 
sick and helpless at London, where he lived. He was also 
an author, and in this direction had at one time a curious 
experience. In early life he had been familiar with a very 
peculiar and sad history, which so affected him that when 
he supposed the chief actor in it to be dead, he published 
the story under the name of “No Fiction, A Narrative 
Founded on Fact.” The book attracted great attention and 
many editions of it were published, but the man whom he 
had supposed to be dead turned out to be alive and lively 
too; for although a fictitious name had beeen given him in 
the story, he recognized himself, and published an indignant 
denial of much of the narrative. Dr. Reed had a boy, who 
proposed to write his father’s life, if he would furnish him 
the material. Dr. Reed wrote it himself, in condensed form, 
by replying as follows: “To my saucy boy, who said he 
would write my life and asked for materials, 


AS ..E 


“I was born yesterday: 
I shall die tomorrow: 
I must not spend today, 
In telling what I have done; 
But in doing what I may for Him 
Who has done all for me. 
I sprang from the people; 
I have lived for the people; 
The most, for the most unhappy. 
And the people when they know it, 
Will not allow me to die out of 
loving remembrance.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 475 
No. 441. 
“AMAZING GRACE! HOW SWEET THE SOUND.” 


Rev. Joun Newton, 1725—1807. 


I would like to give you two pen pictures. The date is 
1735. An English sea captain takes his eleven-year-old boy 
with him to sea. Seven years of a sailor’s life, and then a 
vacation on shore, where he meets a girl of fourteen years, 
whose charms delay him till his ship sails leaving him 
behind. Three years more of life on the sea, and he is 
home again, a deserter, in irons, degraded and flogged. He - 
is an infidel now, a profligate, profane, licentious wretch. 
Off to the sea again, and as the ship passes a small palm- 
covered island off the African coast he leaves her, and 
enters the service of an English slave-dealer. Here he 
gives himself up to every form of wickedness with perfect 
abandon. He has scarcely clothes to cover him, and he is 
content to keep himself from starving with bits of food 
given him by the slaves. “Had you seen me then,” he 
writes, “go pensive and solitary in the dead of night, to 
wash my own shirt, upon the rocks, and afterward put it 
on wet, that it might dry upon my back while I slept: had 
you seen me so poor a figure that, when a boat’s crew came 
to the island, shame often constrained me to hide myself in 
the woods, from the sight of strangers; especially had you 
known that my conduct, principles, and heart were still 
darker than my outward condition:” and so he writes on, 
of himself. . 

One day a ship goes sailing by, and he signals her, hoping 
to trade such things as he can offer for supplies. At first 
the captain declines to stop, but at last rounds to, and our 
vagabond goes aboard, Now leave this picture as it is, and 
let me tell you that in far away England, the father has 
heard of his boy’s whereabouts and condition and has com- 
missioned the captain of a ship to try to find and bring him 


476 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


back. And the girl for whose sake he let his ship go away 
and leave him, sends messages of friendship. The captain 
has searched faithfully but without success for the wan- 
derer, and has started onward on his voyage, and this is the 
very ship, and the man he has sought in vain stands on her 
deck. The captain tells him that his father has sent for him 
to come home, but he declines to go; and then he lies to him 
and tells him he has fallen heir to a fortune, and he wavers, 
and then he tells him that Mary Catlett wants him to come 
back, and he consents to go. And this finishes the first of 
the pictures I am trying to draw. And now for the second 
picture I must take you to a little English village called 
Olney, where a curate of the Church of England is endearing 
himself to the people of his flock by his faithful preaching, 
as he gathers them together on the Sabbath, and by the 
hearty sympathy with which he enters into all the affairs of 
their lives. He writes for them to read the story of his life, 
and tells them of his wanderings from home, and country, 
and God, and how he was at last brought back to God, 
and country, and home. And he writes hymns for them to 
sing in their church, and their prayer meetings, and their 
homes. And in his sermons, and his books, and his hymns, 
he never tires of telling how God has lifted him up out of 
the horrible pit and the miry clay. And these two pictures 
are of the same person. The first, as he was transformed 
by the spirit of evil until nearly all likeness of humanity 
was lost, and the second, as he was transformed again by 
the Spirit of God into some likeness to Christ. 


No. 442. 
“JESUS SHOW US THY SALVATION.” 
Rey. Cuartes Wesiry, 1708—1788. 


Christians of the Episcopal Church should prize this 
hymn, for although written by the great Methodist poet 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 477 


Wesley, it is based on a passage from the “Litany” in the 
“Book of Common Prayer”. “By the mystery of the holy 
incarnation! by the holy nativity and circumcision! by thy 
baptism, fasting and temptation! by thine agony and bloody 
sweat! by thy cross and passion! by thy precious death and 
burial! by the glorious_resurrection and ascension! and by 
the coming of the Holy Ghost! Good Lord, deliver us!” 
Now compare this from the Litany with the hymn; many 
lines are exact copies, and the whole hymn is a paraphrase 
of it. 


No. 443. 
“STAY, THOU INSULTED SPIRIT, STAY.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


This hymn may be called the half-way post in the 
author’s career. He died in his eighty-first year, and this 
was published when he was forty-two. The last line of 
the second stanza, which now reads, “For many long, rebel- 
lious years,’ Wesley wrote, “For forty long, rebellious 
years.” There is one other hymn of his of the same sort, 
the one beginning: 


“God is in this and every place,” 
in one stanza of which he writes: 


“And have I measured half my days, 
And half my journey run,” ete. 


This also was written when he was about forty years old, 
and seems to indicate that he expected to live to be 
eighty. 


478 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 444. 
“JESUS, THOU ALL-REDEEMING LORD.” 


Rey. Cuaryes WEsLEY, 1708—1788. 


The title of this hymn tells the circumstances of its origin, 
“Before Preaching to the Colliers in Leicestershire.” If Mr. 
Wesley was as plain in his preaching as in his hymns, he 
certainly made himself understood by his hearers. This 
hymn, written to be sung to an assemblage of degraded, 
reckless men, has some stanzas which later compilers deem 
it wise to omit; one of these omitted stanzas will serve to 
show you the style of several more: 


“Ve liars and blasphemers too, 
Who speak the phrase of hell, 
Ye murderers all, He died for you 
He loved your souls so well.” 


Another hymn beginning, “Lovers of pleasure more than 
God,” is taken from this piece. 


No. 446. 
“THE PRAYING SPIRIT BREATHE.” 


Rev. Cuartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


There are but few hymns that have been written espe- 
cially for business men. The one by Dr. Horatius Bonar 
beginning, “Calm me, O God, and keep me calm,” is, J think, 
well suited to their needs, but it was not written with this in 
view; indeed I do not remember any hymns so written, but 
this and one other by the same author. This has for its title, 
“For Believers, in an Hurry of Business.” We are accus- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 479 


tomed to look upon this as the age of hurry, but it would 
seem from this title that there was a “hurry of business” a 
century and a half ago, and that it attracted the notice of 
at least one of the preachers of that day, and led him to 
provide for it this prayerful hymn. The other hymn referred 
to above is the one beginning, “Lo! I come with joy to do,” 
and has for its title, “For a Believer in Worldly Business.” 


No. 446. 
“AH! LOVELY APPEARANCE OF DEATH.” 
Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


Mr. Wesley’s views of death were peculiar. He can 
scarcely be said to have invested it with any thought of 
mourning. He composed quite a number of funeral hymns 
for the use of his followers, but the one beginning, 


“Rejoice for a brother deceased,” 


sets the pattern for nearly all of them. He once wrote of 
the body of a friend who died, “No sight upon earth in my 
eyes, is half so lovely,” and of a young miss whose remains 
he had just seen he wrote, “A more beautiful corpse I never 
saw.” These glimpses of his views about death, will amply 
account for a hymn beginning with such words as the above. 


No. 447. 
“AWAY MY UNBELIEVING FEAR.” 


Rev. Cuartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


The Methodist Love-feasts have always been character- 
ized by the relation of personal experiences by those who 


480 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


share in them. At one such meeting an aged man who had 
been rich, but by a succession of adversities had been 
brought down to extreme poverty, arose and said, “I have 
known what it is to be well off in the world, and I loved 
Jesus then! and I have known what it is to be in want, but 
I love Him still. I have been like the apostle ‘Instructed 
both to be full and to be hungry; both to abound and to 
suffer need’; but I am content. ‘Although the fig tree shall 
not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labor 
of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat! 
the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be 
no herd in the stalls! yet I will rejoice in the Lord, T will 
joy in the God of my salvation.’ And then the old man 
struck up a song. It was the second stanza of this hymn: 


‘Although the vine its fruit deny, 
Although the olive yield no oil, 
The withering fig tree droop and die; 
The fields elude the tiller’s toil, 
The empty stall no herd afford, 

And perish all the bleating race, 
Yet will I triumph in the Lord, 

The God of my salvation praise.’ ”’ 


No. 448. 
“HYMNS OF INTERCESSION.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


In the year 1758, England, as well as nearly all the 
nations of Europe, was engaged in war. The Wesleys 
found time enough always to keep themselves and their 
people in full sympathy with the nation and with the world 
about them, and. during these troublous times the principal 
Methodist Societies throughout England held special meet- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH Agi 


ings at noon of every Friday to pray for the nation, the 
church, and the world. In these circumstances Charles 
Wesley wrote and published a tract of forty hymns, en- 
titled, “Hymns of Intercession for all Mankind:” containing 
hymns of prayer, for the King, the Church, the Fleet, the 
Army, for Prisoners, Our Enemies, and other subjects appro- 
priate for use at these meetings. 


No. 449. 
“HYMNS ON THE EXPECTED INVASION.” 


Rev. Cuartes Wesuiey, 1708—1788. 


In the year 1758, England, as well as most of the nations 
of Europe, was at war. During the next year, 1759, the 
French made several unsuccessful attempts to invade Eng- 
land, and as he had done amid the turmoil of the previous 
year, so now Mr. Wesley wrote hymns for the people suited 
to the times they were living in. A tract was published 
entitled, “Hymns on the Expected Invasion,” containing 
eight pieces. 


No. 450. 
“HYMNS FOR THE USE OF FAMILIES,” etc. 


Rev. CuHarues WesLey, 1708—1788. 


The Wesley brothers, John and Charles, published over 
forty books, large and small, of Sacred Poetry. Among all 
of these, the book whose title is given above is probably 
entitled to preeminence. Of the pieces in this book, it 1s 
said that probably not a single hymn in it was written with 
reference to an imaginary case which might occur, but that 
all were written under the excitement of actual experience 
in his own family, or the family of some friend, so that a 
personal history is connected with them all. 


482 ~ STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 451. 
“HYMNS FOR CONDEMNED MALEFACTORS.” 


Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


Although Charles Wesley preached almost daily, wrote 
seven thousand hymns, and performed much other work of a 
public character, he still found time to do a great deal of 
work with individuals. He became greatly interested in 
criminals, and visited many in the prisons, and especially 
such as were condemned to death. The very last work he 
published was a tract entitled, “Prayers for Condemned 
Malefactors.” These prayers were hymns, suited to the 
circumstances of these poor men: hymns of penitence and 
confession, hymns of prayer for pardon, and hymns of trust 
in God. In a note which Mr. Wesley himself wrote at the 
end of one of these hymns, he says, “These prayers were 
answered Thursday, April 28, 1785, on nineteen malefactors 
who all died penitent.” 


No. 462. 
“GREAT GOD OF WONDERS! ALL THY WAYS.” 


Rev. Samvuet Davies, 1723—1761. 


England used to send her convicts to a penal settlement 
in the South Sea, and if by any means a convict escaped 
and was recaptured he was sent to “Macquarie’s Harbour, 
Van Diemen’s Land.” Here, with no companions but other 
convicts like themselves, they grew to be almost fiends. 
Sometimes they escaped and formed themselves into gangs 
of robbers and murderers. A gentleman who used often to 
visit them in their cells, relates that he has seen them 
brought in, with the flesh of murdered victims in their 
pockets, which they had intended to use as food. One such 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 483 


man said of himself, that he thought no more of killing men 
and women than of killing dogs, and added that the only 
occasion when he was at all disturbed in his mind by what 
he had done, was when he had dashed out the brains of a 
baby before the eyes of its mother. Yet even these men 
were reached by the mercy of God, and some of them con- 
verted. This hymn seemed specially adapted to their wants 
and they repeated it and sang it, sometimes at the gallows 
where they were hung. To what remote places a hymn may 
wander or what hearts it may reach, finds illustration in 
this hymn, written by a President of Princeton College, and 
sung under the gallows in Van Diemen’s Land. 


No. 458. 
“HOW SWEET THE NAME OF JESUS SOUNDS.” 


Rev. JouN Newton, 1725—1807. 


John and Charles Wesley left to their followers a collec- 
tion of hymns which continued in use as the authorized 
hymnal of the Methodist Church for a great many years 
after its compilers had left the earth. When at last it was 
revised, the new hymn book was a great subject of discussion 
among the Methodist people. Among the new hymns in- 
serted in the book was this one. And one Methodist said to 
another, as they chatted about the new book, “I wonder if 
Newton, when he wrote that hymn, divined that he was 
ministering comfort to so many poor Methodists. I used 
often to go,” he said, “to the house of a music master, who 
was also singer, preacher, and saint, all in one, when I 
was jaded with travel and study. Oh, what a heaven used 
to steal in upon my soul, while he sat at the piano and with 
tender voice sang: 


‘How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 
In a believer’s ear! 


484 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds 
And drives away his fear.’ 


And the hymn became all the more hallowed to me when 
this same singer told me how his mother used to sing it too.” 


No. 454. 
“GIVE ME THE WINGS OF FAITH TO RISE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1708—1788. 


Philip Doddridge was in the habit of composing hymns 
to enforce the teachings of his sermons. Such hymns were 
read at the close of the service and sung by the congrega- 
tion. But Doddridge and Watts were good friends, and 
Doddridge often used the hymns his friend had written. He 
once wrote a letter to Watts in which he told him what an 
effect upon his audience the use of this hymn had produced. 

“On Wednesday last,’ he wrote, “I was preaching in a 
barn to a pretty large assembly of plain country people, in 
a village a few miles off. After a sermon from Hebrews 
6:12, we sung one of your hymns, 


‘Give me the wings of faith to rise,’ 


and in that part of the worship, I had the satisfaction to 
observe tears in the eyes of several of the auditory: and 
after the service was over, some of them told me that they 
were not able to sing, so deeply were their minds affected 
by it: and the clerk in particular told me he could hardly 
utter the words of it. These were most of them poor people 
who work for their living.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 485 
No. 456. 
“PLUNGED IN A GULF OF DARK DESPAIR.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1708—1788. 


A minister in England was once preaching to a large con- 
gregation before dawn on Christmas morning. His theme 
was appropriate to the day, “The love of God in the gift of 
His Son.” At the close of his sermon he asked, “Where is 
there love among men like the love of life? and yet is there 
a father who would give the life of his son to save his own? 
History tells of a soldier who received into his own heart the 
blade intended to kill his King, but is there a father here 
who would give his son’s life to save another though that 
one were his best friend? But if there were such an one, 
is there one who would give the life of his son to save a 
foe? But God has so loved us, enemies and rebels against 
Him, that He gave His only begotton Son, that we might 
not perish but have everlasting life.” And then he repeated 
a stanza of this hymn: 


“QO! for such love let rocks and hills 
Their lasting silence break, 

And all harmonious human tongues 
The Savior’s praises speak!” 


And as he ended, a voice in the audience shouted, “Halle- 
lujah!” and then another and another repeated the cry, and 
then catching the inspiration of the lines the minister had 
used, the whole congregation arose and sang the next stanza 
of the hymn: 


“Angels! assist our mighty joys, 
Strike all your harps of gold! 
But when you raise your highest notes, 
His love can ne’er be told.” 


486 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 456. 


Rev. Isaac Warts, 1708—1788. 


In the latter part of the seventeenth century the deacon 
of an Independent church at Southampton, England, was 
imprisoned) because of his nonconformity to the Church of 
~ England. see i to come and sit on the stone steps 

of the prison door, with a baby in her arms. A few years © 


as follows: 


“JT write not for your farthing, but to try, 
‘How I, your farthing writers can outvie.” 


This couplet won the prize and the teacher was rejoiced to 
find that her own seven-year-old boy was the writer. He 
kept on rhyming until the habit made him a sort of nuisance 
in the family, and his father, now released from prison, 
threatened that if he did not stop verse-making he would 
whip him. It wasn’t many days, either, until he had an 
opportunity to carry his threat into execution, and while he 
was applying the rod, the culprit tearfully exclaimed: 


/“Dear father do some pity take, 
And I will no more verses make.”/ 


This settled the matter, for the father wisely concluded that 
so incorrigible a rhymster couldn’t be cured by whipping, 
and he was allowed to rhyme on without further molesta- 
tion, and while still a young man he had substituted many 
of his Psalms and Hymns for the uncouth forms till then in 
use. It was Isaac Watts. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 487 


No. 457. 
“JESUS, LORD, THY SERVANTS SEE.” 
Rev. BENJAMIN SCHMOLKE. 


Translated by Frances ExizasetuH Cox. 


On September 12, 1716, a fire broke out at the town of 
Schweidnitz, in Silesia, which destroyed half the town. The 
author of this hymn, who was a pastor in the town, suffered 
much from this fire, as also did many of his people. He 
wrote this hymn to commemorate the event, and for many 
years it was sung at an annual religious service held in the 
town on the anniversary of the fire. 


No. 458. 
“LORD, IT BELONGS NOT TO MY CARE.” 


Rev. RicHarp BAXtTeEr. 


In the days of Oliver Cromwell, there lived a man, who, 
though a constant sufferer from disease, did a prodigious 
amount of work. He wrote books to the number of a hun- 
dred and sixty-eight. He was driven from place to place. 
He was in prison once for preaching, was kept out of his 
own pulpit by a guard of soldiers, was fined for preaching 
again, and at last at seventy years of age, he stood before a 
judge, accused of writing a paraphrase of the New Testa- 
ment. 

“Richard! Richard!” cried the judge, as he pointed his 
finger at him. “Thou art an old fellow, an old knave! thou 
hast written books enough to fill a cart, every one of them 
as full of sedition as an egg is full of meat. Hadst thou been 


488 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


whipped out of thy writing trade forty years ago, it had 
been happy.” And so he sent the old man to jail again. 
When, at last, at seventy-six years of age, worn out with 
hardship and disease, he lay sick and dying, he was asked, 
“Flow are you now?” 

“Almost well,” was the reply, and this is the spirit of 
his hymn: iy 


“Lord, it belongs not to my care, 
Whether I live or die.” 


No. 459. 
“NOW HUSH YOUR CRIES AND SHED NO TEAR.” 


NicHoutas HERMAN. 


Three centuries and a half ago, there lived in a little 
mountain village between Saxony and Bohemia, a man who 
did the duties of head master in the schools, and of pre- 
centor and organist in the church. His interest in the chil- 
dren of the village led him to write hymns for them which 
he intended should drive out the songs they often heard of 
vicious sort, and his love of music led him to write tunes 
for the words, so that the children sang both his words and 
his music. This hymn, written by him, was a great favorite 
with Prince Albert of England, husband of Queen Victoria, 
often called “the Good Prince,” and it was sung at his 
funeral. Its author had some curious notions, and one of 
them was about the way musicians like himself would spend 
their time in heaven. “Every organist or Lutanist,” said he, 
“in that life too, will take some holy text, and strike upon 
his organ or his lute; and every one will be able to sing at 
sight, and by himself four or five different parts. There will 
be no more confusion and mistakes, which now often put 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 489 


many a good musician out of heart, especially when he has 
to begin again several times over.” 


No. 460. 
“ALL PRAISE TO THEE MY GOD THIS NIGHT.” 


BisHop Ken, 1637—1711. 


“HARK! THE HERALD ANGELS SING.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


“LO! HE COMES WITH CLOUDS DESCENDING.” 


Rev. C. WESLEY AND Rev. M. Mapan. 


“ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME.” 
Rev. A. M. Topuapy, 1740—1778. 


Some years ago, an English clergyman, interested in 
hymns, took the trouble to examine fifty-two of the hymnals 
then in use by the various branches of the Anglican Church 
in Great Britain and America, and to make up a list of the 
hymns which seemed to be most highly prized as indicated 
by the number of books containing them. Not a single 
hymn was to be found in the fifty-two books, and but four 
were found in fifty-one of them. These were the four 
hymns whose first lines are given above. Of course the 
estimate of the value placed upon the hymns would be 
greater if the books had been taken from different denomi- 
nations, but it is worth something as it is. 


490 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 461. 
“MUCH IN SORROW, OFT IN WOE.” 
“OFT IN DANGER, OFT IN WOE.” 
“OFT IN SORROW, OFT IN WOE.” 


Henry Kirke Waits, 1785—1806. 


These are merely different beginnings of the same hymn. 
In 1805, a young man’s name was on the records of St. 
John’s College in England, as a “Sizar.” That was a student 
who worked his way. He had certain work to do in connec- 
tion with the school, and for this work his expenses were 
smaller than those of other students. At the next examina- 
tions this youth of twenty years stood highest in his class. 
And a year later he did the same, but he did it at the cost 
of his life, for the long hours of work and study brought on 
consumption and he died that same year. After his death, 
this hymn was found, scribbled on the back of a mathe- 
matical paper, and evidently written while he was pursuing 
his study of mathematics by the light of the midnight lamp. 
It stopped abruptly at the end of the second line of the 
third stanza: 


“Shrink not, Christians! will ye yield? 
Will ye quit the painful field?” 


Here sleep or sickness had overtaken him, and his last 
hymn was left unfinished. But twenty years later an 
English lady (Miss Frances Fuller Maitland) took up the 
lines as he had left them and finished the hymn. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 491 
No. 462. 


“THOU SOFT FLOWING KEDRON, BY THY SILVER 
STREAM.” 


Mapam De F.ieury. 


It is well to base poetic fervor on historic fact, otherwise 
ludicrous blunders are liable to occur. As a matter of fact, 
the Kedron is a very muddy little stream which only flows 
about three months in the year, during the season of heavy 
rains, and during the remainder of the year is entirely dry. 


No. 463. 
“IN GRIEF AND FEAR TO THEE, O LORD.” 


Rev. WiLu1AM BULLOCK. 


A lady came to England, some years ago, with her invalid 
husband, who was an officer in military service in India. 
She was a native of Tasmania and had been converted 
through the work of a missionary who had lived in her 
country when she was a child. In telling the story of her 
life, she told how she had gone with her husband to India, 
and had there shared with him a great many perils. “But 
the worst of all,” said she, “was in the time of pestilence. 
The cholera was in the camp and that was awful. My 
earlier religious impressions were revived, and amidst my 
fears for my husband and myself, I used: to pray in the 
words of a hymn entitled, ‘The Church in Plague or 
Pestilence.’ 


‘In grief and fear to Thee, O Lord, 
We now for succor fly; 

Thine awful judgments are abroad, 
O, shield us lest we die.’ ” 


492 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
“Oh, how I prayed,” she said: 


“‘Oh, look with pity on the scene 
Of sadness and of dread, 
And let Thine angel stand between 
The living and the dead!’ 


And the Lord answered me, and we were saved, my husband 
and I.” 

The hymn she used as her prayer was written by an 
English missionary, who had himself been a witness to just 
such scenes as she was passing through, and who wrote the 
hymn, as his own prayer, and for the help of others. 


No. 464. 
oTHE Ost: GHORD 
“Seated One Day at the Organ.” 


Miss ADELAIDE ANN Proctor, 1835—1864. 


About sixty years ago, a little girl in London, whose 
father was a poet, began to show a love for poetry herself. 
She made for herself a little album, as she called it, of note 
paper, just as many of us did when we were children, and 
before she could write plainly herself, her mother copied 
for her into this little book, the poems she liked best. Later, 
she sent a little poem of her own composing to Charles 
Dickens, who was the editor of Household Words, under an 
assumed name, and he was so much pleased with it that he 
asked for more, and so she kept on until she died. Charles 
Dickens, in writing about the earnestness of her life, said: 
“Now it was the visitation of the sick that had possession 
of her; now it was the sheltering of the homeless; now it 
was the teaching of the densely ignorant; now it was the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 493 


raising up of those who had wandered and got trodden under 
foot; now it was the wider employment of her own sex in 
the general business of life; and now it was all these things 
at once.” And with such work, it is not strange that she 
wore herself out and died at twenty-nine. The music was 
written by Sir Arthur Sullivan, well known as the author of 
“Pinafore” and other light music, but who has written some 
good sacred music as well. The tune to which we sing the 
favorite hymn, 


* ‘Onward Christian soldiers, 
Marching as to war, 
With the cross of Jesus 
Going on before” 


is a good specimen. He was one of the first composers to 
depart from the old-time method of setting all the stanzas 
of a hymn to the same music. 


No. 466. 
“NICALA.” 


Have you ever wondered how our tunes came by their 
names? Upon these names there often hangs a history, 
and there is one hanging upon this. It takes us back into 
the latter part of the second century and into the neighbor- 
hood of Palestine, where a priest by the name of Arius 
began to preach the doctrine that Christ was not the equal 
of the Father. This was the beginning of that doctrine 
which in different form is now known as Unitarianism. ‘A 
great dispute arose, and early in the third century the 
Emperor Constantine called together the Bishops of the 
whole Christian Church, to discuss and decide what should 
be done with Arius and his doctrine. The Emperor him- 
self presided at the meetings, and the result of the discussion 
was the issuance of a creed, which declared in formal words 


494 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


the doctrine of the Trinity. This creed has come down to 
this day as “The Nicene Creed” and the Council which pro- 
claimed it was assembled in Nicwa, a city of Asia Minor, 
about fifty miles away from Constantinople. When Heber’s 
hymn beginning, “Holy! Holy! Holy; Lord God Almighty,” 
became popular, a tune was written expressly for it by Dr. 
J. B. Dykes, one of the most successful composers of church 
music in England. The hymn was written for Trinity Sun- 
day, and is a hymn of praise to the Triune God, so what 
more appropriate name could be found for the tune to which 
it was to be sung than that of the city, in which centuries 
before, the doctrine was proclaimed which both hymn and 
tune were intended to honor. 


No. 466. 
“AWAKE, MY SOUL TO MEET THE DAY.” 
Rev. Pumir Dopprincr, 1702—1751. 


Dr. Doddridge arose at five o’clock in the morning at all 
seasons of the year. He wrote this hymn for his own use, 
and by it he made the very act of arising an exercise of 
devotion. His title for it was, “A Morning Hymn, to be 
Sung at Awakening and Arising.” It is said that when in 
using it he reached words, “as rising now,” etc., he sprang 
out of bed. The thought almost has an element of ludicrous- 
ness in it, and yet a day so well begun, would likely feel the 
influence of its beginning through all its hours. 


No. 467. 


“DEPTH OF MERCY! CAN THERE BE.” 
Rev. Cuartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


An actress was passing along the street of a little English 
town, when she heard singing in a cottage by the roadside. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 495 


Curiosity led her to look in at the open door, and there she 
saw a few poor people gathered together and heard the 
lines, 
“Depth of mercy can there be, 
Mercy still reserved for me?” 


The tune was sweet but she heeded not the music. It was 
the words that had caught her attention. She remained 
long enough to hear a prayer, uncouth in language but sin- 
cere and fervid, and then she left; but those words followed 
her, and she resolved to find them again, so she obtained 
the hymn book containing them and read and reread them, 
and they led to her conversion. For a time she excused her- 
self from attending on the stage, until at last the manager 
of the theater called upon her and asked her to take the 
principal part in a new play. Then she told him of the 
change in her life. At first he ridiculed and then he pled 
the loss it would be to him for her to refuse, and at last she 
consented to appear once more. The character she was to 
assume required of her that she should sing a song when 
she came upon the stage. The night came and the curtain 
rose, and the orchestra began playing an accompaniment to 
her song, but she stood silent. The music soon ceased, and 
then with clasped hands and eyes suffused with tears, she 
sang, not the song of the play, but: 


“Depth of mercy can there be, 
Mercy still reserved for me? 
Can my God His wrath forbear, 
Me the chief of sinners spare? 


No. 468. 
“JESUS AND SHALL IT EVER BE.” 


JOSEPH GRIGG. 


Quite a number of the hymns in common use among us 
have been written by persons not yet out of their teens. 


496 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


This one was written by a boy of ten years, and although 
some few words in it have been altered by compilers who 
have used it in their books, the hymn remains essentially 
as the boy wrote it, and it is doubtful whether even the 
altered words are improvements over the original form. 


No. 469. 
“THE GREAT ARCHANGEL’S TRUMP SHALL SOUND.” 


Rey. CuHartes WESLEY, 1708—1788. 


On one of his visits to the town of Leeds, Mr. Wesley 
preached in the upper room of an old building which was 
densely packed and many stood without unable to gain 
admission. Suddenly the timbers gave way and the floor 
fell, taking over a hundred people with it into the room 
below. None were killed but several were severely hurt. 
Mr. Wesley himself was stunned for a moment, but almost 
immediately recovered and quieted the panic-stricken people 
by singing, “Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.” 
This is part of a hymn written to commemorate this remark- 
able escape from death. 


No. 470. 


“THOU HIDDEN LOVE OF GOD WHOSE HEIGHT.” 


GERHARD TERSTEEGEN, (German). 


Translated by Rev. JonN Westey, 1703—1791. 


If tradition is to be relied upon, this hymn, so far as 
relates to its translation by John Wesley, is due to an unfor- 
tunate love affair in which he became involved while in 
America, an incident in his life that cost him much of 
reputation. Mr. Wesley, himself, declares the hymn to have 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 497 


been written in Savannah, and says of one of its stanzas, 
that it gives his religious sentiments at that time. This 
stanza is: 


“Ts there a thing beneath the sun 
That strives with Thee my heart to share? 
Ah! tear it thence and reign alone, 
The Lord of every motion there!” 


Dr. Southey, one of Mr. Wesley’s biographers, connects the 
love affair with the writing of this hymn, and a certain 
“Miss Sophia” as the one who was referred to. 


No. 471. 
“PEACE, DOUBTING HEART! MY GOD’S I AM.” 
Rev. CuHartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


The author. himself once made good use of his own hymn, 
perhaps saving his life and the lives of a boat’s crew. He 
had engaged a boat to take him from St. Ives to the Scilly 
Isles. A storm arose and the crew began to be afraid, when 
Mr. Wesley began to sing: 


“When passing through the watery deep, 
I ask in faith His promised aid; 
The waves an awful distance keep 
And shrink from my devoted head. 
Fearless, their violence I dare, 
They cannot harm, for God is there.” 


The song gave new courage to the men and they brought 
the boat in safety to the shore. 


498 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 472. 
“QO THAT THE LORD WOULD GRACIOUS BE.” 


Rev. Martin Lutuer, 1483—1546. 


Luther’s hymns and Luther’s music flew through Ger- 
many as if supernaturally winged. Not only did professed 
Protestants sing them, but they were the songs of the street 
and the workshop and the field. Everywhere, people were 
singing his hymns and unconsciously spreading his doc- 
trines. They even crept into Romish churches. It is told 
of this hymn that it, with several others, was introduced 
into the chapel service of the Duke Henry of Wolfenbiittel, 
and that a priest made complaint. When the Duke asked 
what hymns they were of which he complained, the priest 
replied, ‘““May it please your Highness they are such as this: 


“O! that the Lord would gracious be’! 


“Hold! Hold!” replied the Duke, “must the Devil then 
be gracious? Whose grace are we to seek if not that of 
God only?” And so the Lutheran hymns kept their place 
even in the Romish chapel. 


No. 473. 
“THE LAST HOPE.” (Music by Gottschalk.) 


Gottschalk, the pianist and composer, was at one time in 
the Island of Cuba, and while there was the guest of an 
invalid lady. Her disease was incurable and greatly aggra- 
vated by anxiety about a son who was absent. The greatest, 
relief she found was from Gottschalk’s music. One evening 
she was suffering more than usual, and exclaimed to the 
musician, “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, play me something.” So 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 499 


he sat down to the piano and began to improvise the melody 
of this piece. As he brought out in music one thought after 
another, the idea took possession of him that he was playing 
for her for the last time. The next day he went to another 
part of the Island, and at the end of a week returned. As 
he reached the top of a hill that overlooked the town in which 
she lived, he heard the bell of the little church tolling for a 
burial and soon he met a funeral train winding up the hill. 
It was the body of his friend to whom he had played, that 
they were bearing away to burial. Then he recalled the 
melody he had played, arranged the different parts, and in 
memory of the occasion when it was improvised, he named 
it “The Last Hope.’ Whenever afterward he played at 
private assemblies or for friends, he always finished his per- 
formance with this piece. A very beautiful hymn tune has 
been taken out of this composition, which sometimes goes 
by the original name and is sometimes called “Mercy.” 


No. 474. 
“HAIL COLUMBIA, HAPPY LAND.” 


JosepH HopxkINSON. 


The music which we now call “Hail Columbia” was 
written by a German by the name of Feyles whose’ home 
was in Philadelphia. He composed it in 1789 and it was 
first played in that year at Trenton, New Jersey, when 
Washington was on his way to New York to be inaugurated 
as first President of the United States. It is thus associated 
with the very birth of the nation, and has that claim at 
least to be considered our national air. Its composer gave 
to it the name of “President’s March” because of the event 
in honor of which it was composed. The words we now 
sing to it were written nine years later, in 1798, by Joseph 
Hopkinson, a young Philadelphia lawyer. A young singer 


500 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


by the name of Fox, connected with the theater in that city, 
was to have a benefit on a certain Monday night, but on 
Saturday afternoon not a ticket had been sold, and his bene- 
fit seemed likely to result in a loss. Political feeling was 
running very high, there seemed every prospect of a war 
with France, and Congress was then in session in the city 
deliberating on that question. The thought struck the singer 
that if he could get a new patriotic song written to the tune 
of “President’s March,” then a very popular tune, it would 
save him from the failure that otherwise seemed inevitable. 
Hopkinson, the lawyer, was an old schoolmate of his, and 
to him he went late Saturday afternoon and told him the 
situation he was in, and what he wanted. Hopkinson prom- 
ised to try what he could do, and the next afternoon gave 
him the words now so familiar. Monday morning the news- 
papers and flaming posters announced the new patriotic song 
to be sung that night to the tune of ‘“President’s March.” 
The theater was filled to overflowing. The song was sung. 
There was not a word in it to offend either political party, 
not a word of France or England, but a reference to Wash- 
ington, the great leader beloved by all, and an appeal to 
the patriotism of the people. And the appeal was not in 
vain; nine times the audience recalled the singer to the 
stage to repeat the song, and then all arising, amid tremen- 
dous enthusiasm, they joined in the final chorus. It was 
repeated night after night, and was sung all over the city, 
on the streets, and in assemblies of citizens. It quelled the 
strife of parties, and almost in a day bound the whole nation 
together and saved it from the impending danger. 


No. 4765. 
“TRUE LOVE CAN NEF’ER FORGET.” 
SAMUEL Lover. 


In ancient times there were professional bards who 
gained their livelihood by their art. They sang the praises 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 501 


and the loves of kings and the bravery of heroes. Their 
songs were never written, but handed down from generation 
to generation by word of mouth. The last of the Irish bards, 
as well as one of the greatest was Turlogh O’Carolan, who 
died no longer ago than 1738. The songs he composed and 
sang became very celebrated. He became blind while young 
and passed the remainder of his life in darkness. The story 
runs that when a youth he fell in love with Bridget Cruise, 
but the course of true love as usual did not run smooth and 
they never married. Twenty years later, as the blind bard 
-was playing the harp by the waterside, a boat drew to the 
shore, and the blind man, stretching his hand to assist 
a lady to alight, recognized by the touch of her hand his 
ladylove of long years agone. This story, half mythical 
perhaps, is told in verse in the song beginning, “True love 
can ne’er forget.” 


No. 476. 
“YANKEE DOODLE.” 


The name now given to this tune had its origin here in 
America. It is a corruption of the word English, or Anglais, 
as it is in French, as imperfectly pronounced by the Indians, 
and its meaning would be “English simpleton.” Where the 
tune originated no one knows. It hears a close resemblance. 
to an old song sung in the vineyards of France. The Span- 
iards recognize it as much like an ancient ballad of theirs. 
Louis Kossuth, when he heard it in this country, said it was 
an old Hungarian dance, and the Dutch claim it as one of 
their own low-country songs. Its first appearance in this 
country was in June, 1755. The British army was on the 
shores of the Hudson river, and recruits for the provincial 
army came pouring in from all the country round. They 
came in all sorts of dress, as a writer has described it, “some 
with long coats, some with short coats, and some with no 
coats at all.” The arms and accoutrements they brought 


502 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


were as various as their coats, and the music to which they 
marched was more ridiculous than either, for it was the 
uncouth music of two centuries before. Their whole ap- 
pearance excited the mirth of their opponents, as well it 
might, and a certain Dr. Shackburg, Surgeon in the English 
Army, told them he would give them a tune to march by; 
so he wrote out “Yankee Doodle,” and presented it to the 
simple country soldiers as one of the celebrated martial airs 
of Europe. They liked it. It was easy to play and soon in 
all the camps of the American Army the soldiers were drill- 
ing to the music of “Yankee Doodle.” And as in this way it- 
may be said to have been the music with which the Ameri- 
can Revolution began, so it was literally the music with 
which it ended, for when Lord Cornwallis surrendered his 
army to General Washington at Yorktown, his troops 
marched into the American lines to the music of this same 
“Yankee Doodle.” 


The War of 1812, as it is called, between this country and 
Great Britain, was terminated by a treaty made at the city 
of Ghent in Belgium. When the Ministers of the two coun- 
tries had concluded their labors, the burghers of the old 
Dutch city where they met, resolved to give an entertain- 
ment in their honor, and desired to use in it the national airs 
of. the two nations now happily at peace again. So their 
musical director called on the American Ministers for the na- 
tional air of the United States. None of them knew exactly 
what tune to name, and as to that neither you nor I could 
do any better now that three-quarters of a century more 
of national life has passed away. But they finally decided 
to give “Yankee Doodle.” Then the director asked if any 
of them had the music, but no one had it, and then he sug- 
gested to Henry Clay that perhaps he might sing or whistle 
it. “Never whistled or sung a tune in my life,” said Clay, 
“but perhaps Mr. Bayard can.” But Mr. Bayard couldn't, 
and so the question went through the five distinguished 
Americans and not one of them could sing or whistle. What 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 503 


to do they hardly knew, until Mr. Clay exclaimed, “I have 
it,” and called his negro servant, whom he had brought with 
him from Kentucky, and he whistled while the Dutch musi- 
cian took down the notes, and at the grand entertainment 
the finest band of Ghent played “Yankee Doodle” with 
variations as the national air of the United States. 


No. 477. 
“THE DAY OF RESURRECTION.” 
JouHN DAMASCENE, (in Greek). 


Translated by Rev. Joun Mason Nutz, 1818—1866. 


Dean Stanley has described the singing of this hymn in 
the Greek Church at Athens on Easter Morning. ‘As mid- 
night approached, the Archbishop with his priests, accom- 
panied by the King and Queen, left the church and 
stationed themselves on the platform, which was raised 
considerably from the ground, so that they were distinctly 
seen by the people. Everyone now remained in breathless 
expectation, holding their unlighted tapers in readiness when 
the glad moment should arrive, while the priests still con- 
tinued murmuring their melancholy chant in a low half 
whisper. Suddenly a single report of a cannon announced 
that twelve o’clock had struck, and that Easter day had 
begun; then the old Archbishop, elevating the cross, ex- 
claimed in a loud, exulting tone, ‘Christos anesti!’ and 
instantly every single individual of all that host took up 
the cry, and the vast multitude broke through and dispelled 
forever the intense and mournful silence which they had 
maintained so long, with one spontaneous shout of indescrib- 
able joy and triumph, ‘Christ is risen, Christ is risen.’ At 
the same moment the oppressive darkness was succeeded by 
a blaze of light from thousands of tapers which, communi- 


504 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


cating one with another, seemed to send streams of fire in 
all directions, rendering the minutest objects distinctly vis- 
ible, and casting the most vivid glow on the expressive 
faces, full of exultation, of the rejoicing crowd; bands of 
music struck up the gayest strains; the roll of the drum 
through the town, and further on the pealing of the cannon 
announced, far and near, these ‘glad tidings of great joy’; 
while from hill and plain, from the sea shore and the far 
olive grove, rocket after rocket ascending to the clear blue 
sky, answered back with their mute eloquence that Christ is 
risen indeed, and told of other tongues that were repeating 
those blessed words, and other hearts that leap for joy; 
everywhere men clasped each other’s hands and congratu- 
lated one another, and embraced with countenances beaming 
with delight, as though to each one separately some wonder- 
ful happiness had been proclaimed; and so in truth it was; 
and all the while, rising above the mingling of many sounds, 
each one of which was a sound of gladness, the aged priests 
were distinctly heard chanting forth a glorious old ‘hymn 
of victory’ in tones so loud and clear that they seemed to 
have regained their youth and strength to tell the world 
that Christ is risen from the dead, having trampled death 
beneath His feet, and henceforth they that are in the tombs 
have everlasting life.” 


No. 478. 
“WHY THOSE FEARS? BEHOLD, ’TIS JESUS.” 


Rev. THomas Keuuy, 1769—1854. 


Mr. Christopher gives the following story of a sea voy- 
ager: “I was once on my way to the Antipodes. The vessel 
was a transport; but a number of troops were also on board. 
All went on safely, however, till one night, the horrors of 
which I can never forget. I was fast asleep in my berth, 
when about the middle of the night I was startled by a 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 505 


shock, then alarmed by a strange hubbub of creaking tim- 
bers, shuffling feet, and hoarse voices, striving with the 
whistling, roaring wind. Then came a thundering crash; 
down went the vessel on her beam ends; and down came the 
rushing sea, all but filling the cabins, and putting out the 
lights. There was an awful hush for a moment, but soon 
broken by an officer, who, leaping from an adjoining berth, 
cried, ‘This is like hell when the fire is put out!’ But just 
then some gentle spirit seemed to touch my tremulous heart; 
and a sweet calm came over my soul. Then I felt as if 
voices from the better land were singing to me that beautiful 
hymn: 

‘Why those fears? Behold, ‘tis Jesus 

Holds the helm and guides the ship,’ etc. 


We lived to outride the storm, but as long as I live, I shall 
feel that the experience of that night ever hallowed to me 
the memory of Thomas Kelly. His long life was not spent 
in vain, if that hymn alone had been all its fruit.” 


No. 479. 
“SPEAK GENTLY, IT IS BETTER FAR.” 


Davip BATES. 


The author of this song was a Philadelphia broker and 
was nicknamed by his fellow brokers “Old Mortality.” One 
day he sat writing at his desk at home, while his wife 
was sewing near him, and two little children were having 
a pretty lively romp. Their noise disturbed the mother, 
who asked them to be quieter. But they were soon making 
as much noise as ever, and then came another reproof, the 
effect of which only lasted a few minutes, when the nervous 
mcther sprang to her feet: and exclaimed, “TI’ll teach you 
to be quiet.” The boys avoided a box on the ears by a 
quick escape from the room. 


506 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Speak gently, wife, speak gently,” said Mr. Bates, and 
turning to his desk he took a fresh sheet of paper and wrote 
these words. At the supper table he handed it to his wife. 
She saw the title and, thinking it a second reproof, said 
she didn’t want to see it and handed it back unread. 

The next day at his office a literary friend came in, and 
Mr. Bates showed it to him. “This is a good thing, Bates,” 
said his friend, ‘you should have it published.” And acting 
upon the suggestion, he sent it with a note to L. A. Godey, 
editor of Godey’s Magazine, published in Philadelphia. 
Within a few days he received a check from Mr. Godey for 
one hundred dollars, with a note complimenting the poem. 
Mr. Bates looked at the check in amazement, and exclaimed, 
“Well, this is the biggest one hundred dollars I ever saw!” 
He kept it locked up in his desk for a long time, and would 
occasionally take it out and look at it. 

The poem has been translated into many languages and 
is greatly admired by foreigners, especially by the cultured 
Brazilian Emperor. When Rev. J. C. Fletcher, the cele- 
brated American missionary, was in Brazil, he visited Dom 
Pedro. During the call of the. Reverend gentleman, the 
Emperor said, “I have something to show you, and shall be 
very glad if you can tell me the name of the author.” He 
at once led the way into his private library, where one of 
the most prominent objects in the room. was a large tablet - 
reaching from the floor to the ceiling, on which appeared 
the familiar poem “Speak Gently,” in both the English and 
the Portuguese languages. 

“Do you know who wrote this?” asked Dom Pedro. 

“Yes,” replied Mr. Fletcher, “the writer was formerly 
a fellow townsman of mine, Mr. David Bates.” 

“T consider it,” said the Emperor, “the most beautiful 
poem of any language that I have ever read. I require 
all the members of my household to memorize it, and as far 
as possible, to follow its teachings.” Upon Mr. Fletcher’s 
return home, the Emperor sent by him a complimentary 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 507 


letter to the author, expressing his appreciation of the lines 
and his gratification at learning their authorship. 


No. 480. 
“THE MOONLIGHT SONATA.” 


Lupwic von BEETHOVEN, 1770—1827. 


The Wide-Awake Magazine tells a pretty story of the 
way that Beethoven composed this beautiful piece of music. 
He was going by a small house one evening and heard 
someone playing his “Symphony in F” on the piano. He 
stopped to listen, and heard a voice say, “What would L 
not give to hear that piece played by some one who could 
do it justice.” 

The composer opened the door and entered. ‘Pardon 
me,” said Beethoven, somewhat embarrassed; “pardon me, 
but I heard music, and was tempted to enter. I am a 
musician!” The girl blushed; and the young man assumed 
a grave, almost severe manner. “I heard also some of your 
words,” continued Beethoven. “You wish to hear, that is, 
you would like—in short, would you like me to play to 
you?” 

There was something so strange, so comical in the whole 
affair, and something so agreeable and eccentric in Bee- 
thoven’s manner, that we all involuntarily smiled. “Thank 
you,” said the young shoemaker, “but our piano is bad, 
and then we have no music.” 

“No music!” repeated Beethoven. “How then did made- 
moiselle—?” He stopped and colored, for the young girl 
had just turned toward him, and by her sad, veiled eyes 
he saw that she was blind. “I entreat you to pardon me,” 
stammered he, “but I did not remark at first. You play, 
then, from memory.” 

“Entirely !” 

“And where have you heard this music before?” 


508 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Never, excepting the music in the street.” She seemed 
frightened, so Beethoven did not add another word, but 
seated himself at the instrument and began to play. 

“He had not touched many notes when I guessed,” says 
the narrator, who accompanied him, “what would follow, 
and how sublime he would be that evening. I was not 
deceived. Never, during the many years I knew him, did 
I hear him play as on this occasion for the blind girl and 
her brother on that old dilapidated piano. At last the 
shoemaker rose, and approached him, and said in a low 
Voice: ‘Wonderful man, who are you then?’ Beethoven 
raised his head, as if he had not comprehended. The 
young man repeated the question. The composer smiled 
as only he could smile. ‘Listen,’ said he; and he played 
the first movement in the “F Symphony.” A cry of joy 
escaped from the lips of the brother and sister. They 
recognized the player and cried: ‘You are, then, Beethoven!’ 
He rose to go, but they detained him. ‘Play for us once 
more, Just once more,’ they said. He allowed himself to 
be led back to the instrument. The brilliant rays of the 
moon entered the curtainless windows and lighted up his 
broad, earnest, and expressive forehead. ‘I am going to 
improvise a sonata to the moonlight,’ he said, playfully. 
He contemplated for some moments the sky sparkling with 
stars; then his fingers rested on the piano, and he began 
to play in a low, sad, but wonderfully sweet strain. The 
harmony issued from the instrument as sweet and even as 
the bright rays of the beautiful moonlight spread over the 
shadows on the ground.” 


No. 481. 
“IL TROVATORE.” 


“The Anvil Chorus.” 


When Verdi was putting the finishing touches upon “T] 
Trovatore,” he was visited in his study by a privileged 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 509 


friend, who was one of the ablest musicians and critics. 
The latter was permitted to glance over the score and try 
the “Anvil Chorus” on the pianoforte. “What do you 
think of that?” asked the master. 

“Trash!” said the connoisseur. 

Verdi rubbed his hands and chuckled. ‘Now look at 
this—and this—and this,” he said. 

“Rubbish!” 

The composer arose and embraced his friend with a burst 
of joy. 

“What do you mean by such strange conduct?” asked 
the critical one. 

“My dear friend,” responded the master, “I have been 
composing a ‘popular’ opera; in it I resolved to please 
everybody except the great judges and classicists like you. 
Had I pleased you I would have pleased no one else; what 
you say assures me of success. In three months ‘Il 
Trovatore’ will be sung, and roared, and whistled, and 
barrel-organed all over Italy.” And so it was! 


No. 482. 
“CHILD OF THE REGIMENT.” 


“Ask me not why my heart with fond emotion.” 
CHARLES JEFFERYS, Author. 


During the occupation of the Tyrol by the French, and 
after a skirmish between the hostile ranks, an infant child 
was found alone in their camp by the Eleventh Regiment of 
the Grand Army of Napoleon; by that regiment she was 
fostered and beloved, and all were proud of the charming 
vivandiére. Maria, the name given to the child, upon the 
attainment of her eighteenth year, was discovered to be the 
daughter of the Marchioness de Berkenfield, and by her 
removed to a sphere more consonant with the dignity of her 


510 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


birth. Still the affectionate girl found it impossible to 
shake off the attachment of her childhood, and being re- 
proached by her mother with want of pride, defended 
herself in the words of this song, which was so exquisitely 
sung by the renowned cantatrice, Jenny Lind, in the “Child 
of the Regiment,” as to entitle it to be called with propriety 
the gem of that favorite opera. 


No. 482a. 
“BLEST BE THE TIE THAT BINDS.” 


Rev. JoHN Fawcett. 


A great international convention of Young Men’s Chris- 
tian Associations was held in Stockholm, Sweden, in August, 
1888. Delegates were present from every civilized land 
on the globe, speaking many languages, but all devoted to 
the cause of Christ. The convention ended by a grand 
Mass Meeting on Sunday evening, August 19. At the 
close of this meeting, just before they were to separate for 
their homes in the four quarters of the earth, never to 
meet again alive, the delegates joined hands and closed the 
meeting by the singing of this hymn, 


No. 483. 
“HOLY GHOST, DISPEL OUR SADNESS.” 


This hymn has been a sort of football among hymn 
writers and hymn menders for two hundred and fifty years. 
Paul Gerhardt wrote it in German in 1648. Awhile later 
it was translated into English by John Christian Jacobi. 
In 1776, Augustus Montague Toplady, who wrote “Rock 
of Ages,” made it over, condensing it from ten stanzas into 
six. In 1849, the editors of the ‘Methodist Episcopal 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 511 


Hymnal” wanted to use it, but not badly enough to take it 
as it was. So they transposed parts of it and altered 
others. And in 1876, when the same book was revised, the 
editors changed it still further. What the future has in 
store for it remains to be seen, but it started with ten 
eight-line stanzas and now has but four four-line stanzas. 


No. 484. 
“O COME AND MOURN WITH ME AWHILE”’—1849. 


Rey. Frepertck WILLIAM Faser, 1814—1863. 


Notice that refrain, repeated at the end of each stanza, 
“Jesus, my Love, is crucified.” This hymn was written 
in 1849. And yet it embalms in sacred verse words that 
were spoken by one who was ordained to his ministry by 
“the disciple whom Jesus loved,” and that. were spoken 
within a few years after that disciple’s death, if not while 
he was yet alive. St. Ignatius, of Antioch, after faithfully 
ministering to the people of his flock at Antioch, while 
fierce fires of persecution raged about them, was at last 
condemned by Trajan to be thrown to the wild beasts 
in the Amphitheatre. And while on his way thither 
December 20, in the year 107 or 115, frequently exclaimed, 
as if he were being honored to follow in the footsteps of 
Christ, “My Love was crucified.” 


No. 485. 


“SPIRIT, LEAVE. THY HOUSE OF, CLAY.” 


JAMES Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


When Montgomery was a young man and editing a paper 
in Sheffield, England, his editorials attracted the notice and 


512 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


roused the opposition of the Government party, which twice 
caused his arrest for alleged sedition. The second arrest 
resulted in his imprisonment, and while in prison he had 
for a fellow convict a Quaker by the name of Joseph 
Browne, who was also imprisoned on account of his opinions. 
Mr. Browne died not long after, and Mr. Montgomery 
wrote this hymn in his memory, giving to it this dedication: 
“Verses to the memory of the late Joseph Browne of 
Lothersdale, one of the people called Quakers, who had 
suffered a long confinement in the Castle of York, and loss 
of all his worldly goods, for conscience sake.” 


No. 486. 


“THE LORD IS OUR REFUGE, THE LORD IS OUR 
GUIDE”—(Psalm Forty-six). 


Rev. Henry F. Lyts, 1793—1847. 


The author of this hymn was the minister of a seaside 
town in South Devon, England. There were many fisher- 
men’s families among his flock, and sometimes when by 
chance the men were ashore, the congregation would be 
largely made up of fishermen and their families. One 
summer Sunday morning in 1838 when he entered his 
church, he found it filled with such an audience. He began 
by telling them of his pleasure at seeing them there, and 
then said that he should speak almost entirely to them. He 
took for his text the words of the Master to the fishermen 
of Galilee, “Cast the net on the right side of the ship and 
ye shall find,” and then there followed a loving and faithful 
appeal to those who see “God’s wonders in the deep,” and 
then he closed with this version he had himself composed 
of the Forty-sixth Psalm. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 513 
No. 487. 
“MET AGAIN IN JESUS’ NAME.” 


Rev. JoHN Pysgr, 1790—1859. 


The history of this hymn is the history of a tent. The 
tent was built in 1814 for religious services at Bristol, 
England. A wild young man, whose waywardness had 
caused grief to his widowed mother, had been converted 
and had often spoken as a lay preacher in this tent. At 
last he gave up his business, and then he and the tent 
moved about over England, from Bristol to London, and 
from London to Manchester, until the man, by years of 
unremitting toil, was compelled to abandon his tent and 
settle down to less laborious work; but even then he took 
no rest, and was found one day sitting in his study chair 
—dead with the harness on. He wrote a few good hymns 
and this one among the rest. 


No. 488. 
“KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN.” 


“Kathleen Mavourneen, the Gray Dawn Is Breaking.” 


Thomas W. Higginson relates that he was once at a 
little musical party in New York where several accom- 
plished amateur singers were present, and with them the 
eminent professional, Adelaide Phillips. The amateurs were 
first called. Each chose some difficult operatic passage 
and sang her best. When it came to the great singer’s 
turn, instead of exhibiting her ability to eclipse the other 
singers, she simply seated herself at the piano, and sang 
“Kathleen Mavourneen” with such thrilling sweetness, that 
a young Irish girl who was setting the supper table in the 


514 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


next room, forgot her work, threw herself into a chair, 
put her apron over her face, and cried as if her heart 
would break. 


No. 489. 
“QO GOD OF BETHEL BY WHOSE HAND.” 


Rev. Pump Dopprince, 1702—1751. 


I am often astonished to note into what far-off places 
and by what circuitous paths our hymns have traveled in 
their mission of comfort to human hearts. Here is a 
hymn written in England and first read and sung at the 
close of a sermon one winter Sunday in 1736 (January 16), 
finding its way by and by into the Scotch Paraphrases, 
and so into the church and family worship of the Presby- 
terians of Scotland and fixing itself in their memories and 
their hearts; and then a hundred years after it was written, 
turning up again in the heart of Africa, to comfort and 
encourage a Scotchman who had wandered thither. David 
Livingston was a Scotch boy and had become familiar with 
the hymn book his parents used, in the days of his boyhood. 
And when in manhood he had become the famous explorer 
of the African Centinent, he carried with him in his travels 
a little pocket copy of the old home hymn book; and when, 
in the depths of African forests, dangers seemed thick about 
him, and food seemed likely to fail, he records that often 
he would take out the old hymn book, and seated under 
some sheltering tree, would read aloud the words of this 
hymn, and arise encouraged and comforted. 


No. 490. 
“VAIN, DELUSIVE WORLD ADIEU.” 
Rey. CHARLES WeEsLEyY, 1708—1788. 


Rev. Adam Clarke was the great Methodist commentator. 
His comments on the Bible fill six great volumes, and they 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 515 


were for many years among the most popular, at. least 
among Methodists. When Adam Clarke was a young man 
of twenty-three, he was one of Wesley’s itinerant preachers 
and was sent by him to preach on one occasion in a little 
country village in England. At the close of one of their 
services in a crowded room, they were singing this hymn, 
when Mr. Clarke stopped them and made an earnest appeal 
to the young people present to follow out the teaching of 
the hymn and give themselves to God. Thirteen took his 
advice and there between the stanzas of this hymn began 
the Christian life. To me a hymn which a century and 
a half ago was used and sung under such conditions 
becomes almost a sacred thing. 


No. 491. 
“JESUS, THESE EYES HAVE NEVER SEEN.” 


Rev. Ray Paumer, 1808—1887. 


It is a constant wonder what apparently trivial things 
are always leading us toward things of high importance. 
Now here is a hymn that has become known and loved the 
world around, and it had its origin in an occurrence of 
trifling moment. Its author was sitting in his study at 
Albany, New York, preparing a sermon which had Christ 
for its special theme. Needing a volume from his book- 
case, which had doors to it, he arose and opened the book- 
case door, when the book he wanted appeared right before 
his eyes. It occurred to him that in some such way, as 
the opening of a door, the face of Christ, near us all the 
time, but unseen, would be revealed to us, and the thought 
filled his heart so that he turned to his desk and wrote this 
hymn. Although the author is best known by the hymn, 
“My faith looks up to Thee,” he himself preferred this to 
any other he had written. And when he was dying and had 


516 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


become so feeble that his words were scarcely audible, 
he was heard to whisper one of its stanzas: ; 


“When death these mortal eyes shall seal, 
And still this throbbing heart, 

The rending veil shall Thee reveal, 
All glorious as Thou art.” 


No. 492. 
“MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE.” 


Rev. Ray PaumMer, 1808—1887. 


This hymn affords an illustration of the peculiar craze 
called “Anglomania.” It was published in a hymn book in> 
1832, and although the book became quite well known, 
this hymn attracted little attention beyond being reprinted 
in a few newspapers. An English minister (Dr. Andrew 
Reed), himself a hymn writer, while on a visit to America, 
found it floating about in a newspaper, cut it out and 
carried it to England with him and inserted it without any 
author’s name in a hymn book he compiled. It had several 
vears of English life before it was much known here, and 
then some American compiler, going as so many Americans 
do to England for his goods, found this ane imported it 
again to the country of its birth. 


No. 493. 
“YET THERE IS ROOM! THE LAMB’S BRIGHT HALL.” 


Rev. Horatrus Bonar, 1808—1889. 


When Moody and Sankey visited Scotland, no one entered 
more heartily into their work than Rev. Horatius Bonar. 
At that time, although the hymns he had written were used 
in the worship of song in churches all over the world, they 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 517 


had never been heard in his own church, which still retained 
the old version of the Psalms honored by the use of several 
generations of worshippers. Mr. Bonar wrote several hymns 
especially for the use of Mr. Sankey in these evangelistic 
services and this one among the rest. 


While Moody and Sankey were in Scotland, a gay young 
woman was one day invited by a friend to go with her to 
their meeting. At first she declined, saying she did not 
care to hear them, but at last consented and went. Neither 
Mr. Sankey’s singing, nor Mr. Moody’s preaching made any 
‘Impression upon her, and she wondered why people were 
making such a stir about such a commonplace sort of 
service. At last came the time to close, and Mr. Sankey 
ended the meeting by singing alone, this hymn, which had 
been written for him by Mr. Bonar. He had reached the 
last stanza: 


“Ere night that gate may close, and seal thy doom, 
Then the last, low, long cry, ‘No room, no room! 
No room, no room! Oh, woeful ery, no room!’ ” 


These closing words startled her like a sudden peal of 
thunder. She went away, but the words followed her and 
kept repeating themselves over and over in her ears, “No 
room! No room! No room!” And they brought her at 
last to a committal of herself to Christ. 


No. 494. 
“FEAR NOT, O LITTLE FLOCK, THE FOE.” 


Gustavus ApoLpHus, King of Sweden, in prose. 
Dr. JAcos Fasricius, in poetry, 1593—1654. 
Miss CATHERINE WINKWORTH, 1829—1873. 


This hymn was born in one of the most terrible times 
that ever troubled Europe—the Thirty Years’ War—which 


518 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


began soon after the death of Luther, and was the effort 
of the Roman Church to crush out the Reformation he had 
started. Count Tilly, a German soldier, had been placed 
at the head of the armies of the Catholic League, and for 
twenty years he devastated the Protestant cities and prov- 
inces, overcoming every army that appeared against him, 
and never being defeated in a single battle. 

On the tenth of May, 1631, he captured the City of 
Madgeburg and permitted his soldiers to burn the town 
and massacre in cold blood twenty-five thousand of its 
inhabitants. But this was his last victory. A new soldier 
had come upon the scene. Gustavus Adolphus, King of 
Sweden, had become the champion of the Protestant Union,. 
had landed the year before with an army, small but deter- 
mined, on the northern coast, and was sweeping southward 
with a record of victories, almost as uniform as that of 
the Catholic Commander. They met on the seventh of 
September, 1631, near Leipsic, and Gustavus was victorious 
over the general, and the army, which had never before 
been vanquished, and then while his army rested, he wrote 
down roughly in prose, a hymn for them to sing, and his 
chaplain changed it into verse, and here it is translated 
for us by an English lady, Miss Winkworth. 

His army often sang it after that as they kneeled upon 
the battle field before the fight began, and they sang it 
on the morning of the day its author fell, while leading 
them against the army of the Catholics. 

Tilly had been again defeated, and slain, on the battle 
field, by Gustavus; and Wallenstein, another celebrated 
eeneral, now commanded his army. It was at Lutzen, 
November 6, 1632, Gustavus had spent the night in prepar- 
ing for the contest, and after a foggy morning, at about 
ten o’clock the mist had risen, disclosing the opposing 
armies. The army of Gustavus, as was their custom, knelt 
down for a moment of prayer, then sang the old battle 
hymn of Luther—‘A Mighty Fortress is our God, A 


sa dieitie 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 519 


) 


Bulwark never failing,” and then the hymn of their own 


commander, 
“Fear not, O little flock, the foe.” 


And then they charged upon the enemy. 

The battle was hot and seemed at one time likely to go 
against the Protestants. Just then Gustavus was wounded 
and fell to the ground, and his horse galloped riderless 
back. His soldiers saw and recognized the horse of the 
Kking, and this roused them to such a fury that they swept 
over against the Catholic Army with a force that nothing 
could resist, and gained the day, but Gustavus, the King, 
was dead. 

As we sing this hymn, let us remember amid what terrible 
scenes it had its birth, and what a part it has had in the 
great contest that gave to Germany religious liberty. 


No. 495. 
“JUST AS I AM WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 
Miss CHARLOTTE Exuiottr, 1789—1871. 


An English sea captain, notorious for his wickedness, 
once attempted to commit suicide but was brought back 
to life. 

Thinking of himself as alive, and yet if he could have had 
his own way, as dead, he was impressed with the thought 
that an overruling Providence had stepped in to thwart his 
purpose, and that some better life awaited him. With this 
impression he went into a little seaside church and listened 
to a sermon, at the end of which the preacher invited any 
one who wished to be saved to come the next evening and 
talk with him. He went, and soon had told all the story of 
his life to the minister, who made him no reply, but took a 
hymn book, turned down a leaf at a particular hymn, 


520 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


handed it to the man, and told him to take it home and read 
that hymn carefully as if in the presence of God, and to 
“mean it when he read it.” 

The captain turned away somewhat indignant at the 
way he had been treated. ‘Have I come all this way,” 
he thought, “merely to be sent away with a hymn book?” 
On his way out of the church he thought he would see right 
then what the hymn was which he had been told to read, 
“and to mean it when he read.” So he sat down in a pew 
and read the words of this hymn, “Just as I am without one 
plea.” 

The words startled him when he thought of the minister’s 
direction, but he read on, every line and word seeming to 
have been written for him. He caught the minister’s thought, 
and made the words his own then and there, and went away 
a saved man. : 


No. 496. 
“JESUS! THE NAME HIGH OVER ALL.” 


Rev. Cuartes Wesiegy, 1708—1788. 


How the hymns we heard our mothers sing when we 
were children come back to us in after years, and sometimes 
mould and fashion our lives. 

There is a story of a mother with whom this hymn was 
a favorite so that she used to sing it while engaged in 
her daily duties. One stanza attracted the attention of her 
little daughter, and fixed itself in her memory: 


“Oh that the world might taste and see 
The riches of His grace; 
His arms of grace that compass me, 
Would all mankind embrace.” 


From this verse, sung by the mother during her childhood, 
there came to her the thought of devoting her life to the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 521 


work of foreign missions, and she is now (1890) at work 
among the women of India, telling them “the riches of 
His grace.” 


No. 497. 
“WHAT MEANS THIS EAGER ANXIOUS THRONG.” 


Miss Erra CAMPBELL. 


During the year 1864, there was a great revival of religion 
in Newark, New Jersey. At one of the meetings, Mr. R. G. 
Pardee made an address based on the answer given to 
blind Bartimeus when he asked the meaning of the multi- 
tude whose tramping feet he heard as they passed the place 
where he sat begging. “And they told him that Jesus of 
Nazareth passeth by.” (Luke, 18:37.) 

Miss Campbell was present, and it seemed to her a 
fitting subject for a poem descriptive of the throngs that 
were then pressing along the streets of Newark drawn by 
the manifest presence of Christ. It soon found its way into 
a collection of revival hymns first set to the tune of “Sweet 
hour of prayer” and later to a tune of its own, composed 
by Mr. Theodore Perkins. 


The Rev. E. P. Hammond relates that a gambler once 
came into a revival meeting at Lockport, New York, where 
this song was being sung. He was converted, and a few 
days later, in telling his experience, he said that this hymn 
had been the means of awakening him, and added that when 
he went out of the church that day, as he was passing over 
the canal, he took from his pocket his pack of cards, the 
implements of his profession, which he called “The Devil’s 
Testament with its fifty-two leaves,” and threw them into 
the water below. 


522 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 498. 
“THERE IS A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD.” 


Wituram Cowper, 1721—1800. 


This hymn is as cordially hated by some as it is cordially 
loved by others. It has been called “The Slaughter House 
Hymn,” and those especially who look to Christ as an 
example to be followed, rather than as the One whose blood 
cleanseth from all sin, protest against its use . Even James 
Montgomery, earnest Christian that he was, disliked it, 
but his criticism was mostly against the first couplet. 

He thought it incorrect to speak of “a fountain filled with 
blood,” and he tried to mend the fault by a stanza of his 
own. 

“From Calvary’s cross a fountain flows, 
Of water and of blood: 
More healing than Bethesda’s pool, 
Or famed Siloam’s flood.” 


But this stanza, more correct in phraseology possibly, fell 
flat, and Cowper’s is still sung, and will be, perhaps, as long 
as the old Bible verse is remembered which says that, 
“Tn that day there shall be a fountain opened in the house 
of David, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and 
for uncleanness.” 


No. 499. 
“ALONE, YET NOT ALONE AM I.” 


During the old French War in this country, a party of 
Indians, then allies of the French, made a descent upon the 
town of Carlisle, Pennsylvania, killing the father and son 
of a poor German family, and carrying two little girls away 
captive; the mother was absent from home. 


a 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 523 


Many years after, one of these little girls, with many other 
captives, was released and taken back to the place from 
which she had been taken. Relatives and friends of those 
who had been captured so many years before came to see 
if they could recognize their lost ones, and among them 
came this mother seeking her two lost children. The girl 
had grown beyond recognition, and she failed to find her. 

At last the officer having them in charge inquired if 
she could not remember something with which her children 
were familiar at home, and which might help them to 
recognize her if they were present. She replied that there 
was a hymn that she used to sing to them often, and she 
began to sing it over again: 


“Alone, yet not alone am I, 
Though in this solitude so drear! 
I feel my Savior always nigh.” 


She had only gotten so far when a young woman came 
rushing from the crowd of released captives, and threw 
herself into her arms, and together, the mother and daughter 
sang the remaining lines: 


“He comes the weary hours to cheer, 
I am with Him and He with me, 
Even here, alone I cannot be.” 


No. 600. 
“THE SON OF GOD! THE LORD OF LIFE.” 


Grorce Moaripncr, 1787—1854. 


In England sixty or seventy years ago, there lived a - 
man who had been in the Japan-ware business, but had 
failed and turned his attention to the writing of books 


524 STORIES OF THE GREAT: 


for children. At this he proved more successful, and his 
books became the standard stories for the children of that 
day. They were full of adventure and fun, and at the 
same time always contained a good moral that made them 
safe for any child to read. 

He wrote under the name of “Old Humphrey,” and 
that name became as familiar to the children of old 
England as that of “Peter Parley” to the children of New 
England. 

His name was George Mogridge, and he wrote poetry as 
well as prose. This hymn is one of his. 


No. 501. 
“THAT DAY OF WRATH, THAT DREADFUL DAY.” 


Sir Water Scort, 1771—1832. 


A little more than a century ago (in 1786) a Scotch 
boy of fifteen years, of delicate constitution, might have 
been seen limping about, for he was lame, listening to 
the-tellers of old stories, and reading as his fancy or his 
whim directed, in history, or poetry, or story. 

Ten years later he ventured to publish a book himself, 
and then, year after year, he sent out book after book, 
always of poetry. “Marion,” “The Lady of the Lake,” 
“The Lay of the Last Minstrel,” and so on, and then 
suddenly he changed his course and wrote no more poetry 
but sent out one after another romances in prose, until 
twenty-seven of the Waverly Novels had appeared, and 
the author was rich and lived in a beautiful home. Then 
his publishers failed, and left him with an expensive home 
and a great burden of debt. But he determined to ask no 
favors, but to pay every debt by the fruit of his pen. This 
his books eventually did, but it was at the expense of the 
author’s life. Worn out by the task he had set himself 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 525 


to do, he gave up his work and his books, and called a 
son-in-law to read to him from that book which, he said, 
was the only one a dying man cared to hear, and so he died, 

This hymn is a translation of an old Latin hymn of the 
thirteenth century by Thomas of Celano; introduced by 
Sir Walter Scott into the “Lay of the Last Minstrel.” 

It is in the sixth canto of the poem, the one beginning 
with the words familiar to most of the school boys: 


“Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 
‘This is my own, my native land!’ ” 


The marriage feast of Lady Margaret has been described, 
the minstrels have one after another sung their songs, and 
the sudden gloom, the single flash of lightning, and the 
single thunder peal have terrified the guests, and they had 
gone on pilgrimage to Melrose Abbey. And then the poem 
goes on: 


“And slow up the dim aisle afar, 
With sable cowl and scapular, 
And snow white stoles in order due, 
The holy Fathers two and two 
In long procession came: 
Taper and host and book they bear, 
And holy banner flourished fair 
With the Redeemer’s name. 
Above the prostrate pilgrim band, 
The Mitred Abbot stretched his hand, 
And blessed them as they kneeled. 
With holy cross he signed them all, 
And prayed they might be sage in hall 
And fortunate in field. 
Then Mass was sung and prayers were said 
And solemn requiem for the dead: 
And bells toll’d out their mighty peal 
For the departed spirit’s weal; 


526 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


And ever in the office close 
The hymn of Intercession rose: 
And far the echoing aisles prolong, 
The awful burthen of the song, 
‘That day of wrath, that awful day.’” 


No. 502. 
“ARISE, MY SOUL, ARISE.” 


Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


Rev. Mr. Cranswick, for many years a missionary to 
the West Indies, refers to this hymn as one of the most 
useful he has ever met. He says he has a record of over 
two hundred persons who were apparently converted during 
the singing of it. He made great use of it in revival 
services and would frequently ask inquirers to join in the 
singing of it as far as they could do so heartily, making 
its sentiments their own. Sometimes they would hesitate 
at one of the stanzas, and then he would have the whole 
audience begin the hymn again. Usually they faltered at 
the last stanza. 


“My God is reconciled: 
His pardoning voice I hear: 
He owns me for his child: 
I can no longer fear: 
With confidence I now draw nigh: 
And ‘Father, Abba, Father,’ cry.” 


And then they would all begin again and sing along through 
the experiences of which the different stanzas sing, until 
at last, with bright faces and joyous hearts, the whole 
hymn could be sung. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH Ban 
No. 603. 


“Q DAY OF REST AND GLADNESS, O DAY OF JOY 
AND LIGHT.” 


CHRISTOPHER WorDSWoRTH, Bishop. 


One Sunday morning there was a visitor at the house 
of the author of this hymn who was to officiate in the pulpit 
that day. He was with Wordsworth in the library when 
the latter put his arm in his and said, “Come upstairs with 
me, the ladies are going to sing a hymn to encourage you in 
your labor for the day.” So they went and sang from slips 
of paper on which had been written, this hymn. Several 
days later the visitor found out that Wordsworth himself 
had written it. 


No. 504. 


‘TORD DISMISS US WITH THY BLESSING, BID US 
NOW DEPART IN PEACE.” 


Rev. Rospert Hawker, 1753—1828. 


There is a funny story connected with this hymn, which, 
however, does not spoil the hymn by being told. The 
author published a little collection of hymns such as were 
sung by the children of the Sunday school connected with 
his church, and this one was included in the collection, but 
with no author’s name attached. It was the custom to 
sing it at the close of the evening service, so that it became 
quite well known to his people. 

One day a young grandson of Dr. Hawker, who after- 
ward became a very eccentric clergyman, but who was 
then young, came to the Doctor’s study with a paper in 
his hand and said, “Grandfather, I don’t altogether like 
that hymn, ‘Lord dismiss us with thy blessing.’ I think 


528 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


it might be improved in meter and language, and would be | 
better if somewhat longer.” 

“Oh indeed,” said Dr. Hawker, getting a little red in the 
face, “and what emendations commend themselves to your 
precocious wisdom?” 

“This is my improved version,” said the youngster, and 
then he read four stanzas of his own writing. When he 
had finished reading his own, he read the short hymn as it 
was in the book and added, “Now ‘this is crude and flat, 
don’t you think so, Grandfather?” 

“Crude and flat, sir! Why, you young puppy, it is 
mine! I wrote that hymn.” 

“Oh! I beg your pardon, Grandfather, I did not know 
that. It is a very nice hymn, indeed, but—but,” as he went 
through the door, “mine is better.” 

However, we still sing the Grandfather’s hymn. 


No. 506. 
“Q SACRED HEAD, ONCE WOUNDED.” 


. This is one of seven “passion hymns” written in Latin 

by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, a monk of the Roman Church. 
They are addressed respectively to the feet, the knees, the 
hands, the side, the breast, the heart, and the face of the 
Savior on the cross. This is the last of the seven, addressed 
to the face. It was and still is one of the best of the 
Latin hymns. The German translation was equally popular, 
and the English words have found a place in nearly all 
our hymnals. 

Just see what a combination this hymn presents. Three 
learned men of three different races, living in three different 
centuries, belonging to three different churches, and speaking 
three different languages, have united their work to prepare 
it for our use. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 529 


No. 506. 
“LIFE IS WEARY, SAVIOR, TAKE ME.” 


“LEAVE GOD TO ORDER ALL THY WAYS.” 


GrorcE NeuMaRE, 1621. 


A poor young man gained his living, in Hamburg by 
his skill upon the violin, but by and by he fell sick so 
that he could no longer play, and so could no longer earn 


‘his food. 


One night he stole off to a Jew and pawned his violin 
for a little money to buy bread. As he was putting the 
instrument into the hands of the money lender, he looked at 
it as if it were his child and asked if he might play just one 
more tune upon it. 

“Of all sad hearts that have left your door,” said he, 
“mine is the saddest.” The tears came to his eyes, and his 
voice choked, and then he took the instrument and began 
to play a tune exquisitely soft, and then began to sing a 
hymn which he himself had written: 


“Tife is weary, Savior, take me.” 


He played and sang, and then laid down the violin and 
rushed out of the door, but as he went he stumbled against 
some one in the darkness. Some one who had been listen- 
ing to his song. 

“Could you tell me where I could get a copy of that 
song?” The inquirer was the servant of a wealthy man, who 
learned the story of the violin and its owner, and took him 
into his employ. He soon reclaimed his old violin, and 
with it went to see his old landlady, who had always been 
his friend in trouble. As soon as it was known that he 
had come, her room filled up with neighbors and friends, 
eager to hear him play and sing, and to them he sang 
another hymn which he also wrote himself: 


530 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Teave God to order all thy ways. 
And hope in Him, whate’er betide.” 


This was George Neumark. When asked if he wrote the 
hymn he replied, “Well, yes; I am the instrument, but 
God swept the strings. All I knew was that these words, 
‘Who trusts in God’s unchanging love,’ lay like a soft 
burden on my heart. I went over them again and again, 
and so they shaped themselves into a song.” 


No. 507. 


“ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS, MARCHING AS TO 
WAR.” 


Rev. SABINE BARING-GOULD. 


A Mission School in England, at its festivals, was in 
the habit of marching from the schoolroom to the Parish 
church with a banner at the head of the procession with 
the cross inscribed upon it, and the author wrote this 
hymn to be sung on the way. This explains the language 
of the stanza: 


“Onward, Christian soldiers, 
Marching as to war, 
With the cross of Jesus, 
Going on before.” 


It has been the occasion of a story just a little bit 
laughable, but not too much so to spoil the usefulness 
of the hymn, which, with the excellent tune written for it 
by Sir Arthur Sullivan has become very popular. 

The Bishop of Ripon was on one occasion about to join 
in a church processional, when he noticed a banner before 
him with a cross on it and requested that it be removed, 


Re ee 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 531 


as he disliked the idea of this use of the cross. The rector 
said, “My Lord, we are about to sing as a processional, 
‘Onward, Christian soldiers; shall we alter the last lines 
to read, ‘With the cross of Jesus left behind the door?’ ” 
“Substitute another hymn,” said the Bishop, and they did so. 


No. 508. 


“LORD DISMISS US WITH THY BLESSING, 
FILL OUR HEARTS WITH JOY AND PEACE, 

LET US EACH THY LOVE POSSESSING, 
TRIUMPH IN REDEEMING GRACE.” 


Hon. anp Rev. Eater Suiruey, 1725—1786. 


The author of this hymn was a devoted preacher of the 
gospel, and when he had passed his three-score years, and 
was so great a sufferer as not to be able to appear in the 
pulpit or even to lie down in bed, he was often to be found 
sitting in a chair in his own house preaching to an audience 
that filled the rooms and stairways of a spacious dwelling, as 
far as his voice could be heard. 

For those who gathered thus to listen to his words, he 
composed a hymn to be sung as they parted from him, and 
from each other, which has been used as a closing hymn 
for a century and more. 

The authorship of the hymn as given above is not certain. 
By some it is claimed for John Fawcett, who wrote “Blest 
be the tie that binds,” but Fawcett did not claim it for 
himself. 


No. 509. 


Joun SEBASTIAN BACH. 


In 1685 (March 21) there was born a little German boy, 
who soon began to show a love for music. He was an 


532 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


orphan and lived with a brother who was a church organist, 
but the little boy went ahead so rapidly with his musical 
studies, that he outstripped his older brother, who was 
jealous of his progress, forbade his doing anything but his 
daily allotted task, and kept him from getting the books he 
coveted. 

In an old cupboard in the house they lived in, the boy 
knew there was, away on the upper shelf, a rare old book 
of manuscript music, and he never passed the old cupboard, 
without a thought how he might get this book. 

The upper part of the cupboard door was of lattice 
work, and he thought he might possibly squeeze his little 
hand through this, and contrive to pull the soft parchment 
through, so he watched his opportunity when no one 
was about, and got the book safely into his possession. 
Now if he could only copy it before it should be missed, 
but how,—for his brother refused him candles or lights, but 
he could not refuse him moonlight. So waiting for moon- 
light nights, and working at the window of his little room, he 
at last copied the whole book; but no sooner had he begun 
to use the music it contained than his brother found him 
out and burned the book befere his very eyes. 

Somehow it seems to me that when I see written above 
a tune we sing the name of this boy, John Sebastian Bach, 
I take a little greater interest in the music for knowing 
of these struggles of his boyhood. 


No. 610. 
“GREENVILLE” (Tune). 


JEAN JAcQuES RoussEAvu, 1712—1778. 


Something of the sacredness of this tune may be lost to 
us if we learn its origin and its composer. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 533 


An adventurer roaming about France and Switzerland, 
a profligate with a mistress in each new city he made his 
home, an infidel or sceptic in religion, a brilliant writer 
and a good musician, such and worse was Rousseau. 

In 1752 he published an opera in French entitled “Le 
Devin de Village.” 

In one of the scenes there is a melody, without words, 
headed “Pantomime” and arranged for stringed instruments. 
About forty years later this appeared in England with the 
words of a love song attached. A quarter of a century 
later it was again published under the name of ‘“Rousseau’s — 
Dream,” and under this title with the words of the love 
song, it is still to be found in song collections, in just the 
form in which we sing it to sacred words, under the name 
of “Greenville.” 


No. 611. 
“Q THOU WHO CAMEST FROM ABOVE.” 
Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


When the Methodist preachers met in conference with 
Mr. Wesley, he kept them busy telling their experiences, 
and so at one such conference a number of them agreed 
among themselves that they would turn the tables on 
him by asking him his, so when the hour arrived one of 
them addressed him: “Mr. Wesley, vou often ask us about 
our experiences and now we should like to be favored with 
yours.” 

“Very well,” was the reply, “you shall have it.” And 
then he repeated this hymn. “That is my experience,” 
said he, “can any Christian give a better?” 


534 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 612. 
“TELL ME THE OLD, OLD STORY.” 
Sh LOVE IO, LELGel Hh ORY... 


Miss Kats HANnKEy. 


These two hymns are the two parts of a “Life of Jesus in 
Verse,” written by an English lady in 1866. The first part 
is entitled, “The Story Wanted,” and the second, “The 
Story Told.” 

A few months after they were published in England, there 
was a Y..M.C. A. convention at Montreal. Among those 
present was Major General Russell, who was then in com- 
mand of the English forces detailed to protect the Canadian 
frontier from the much talked of Fenian raid. He arose in 
the meeting and read the first part, beginning with the 
words, “Tell me the old, old story,” from a manuscript copy 
he held in his hand; as he read it the tears rolled down his 
cheeks, and the sight of an old soldier, reading a simple 
song like that, and weeping as he read, attracted much 
attention in the meeting. 

Mr. M. H. Doane of Cincinnati heard him read it, ob- 
tained of him a copy, and on the stagecoach, riding from 


the Glenn Falls House to the Crawford, in the White Moun- - 


tains, he wrote the music for it, and sang it in the hotel 
parlor that evening. 

It is somewhat curious that these two hymns led to the 
writing of a third a few months later by Mrs. Emily Hunt- 
ingdon Miller in the same meter, and intended as a sequel 
to the others, and beginning, 


“T love to hear the story.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 535 


No. 618. 
“NORTHFIELD” (Tune). 


JEREMIAH INGALLS, 1764—1838. 


Mr. Ingalls was one of the early tune writers of America, 
following soon after William Billings. 

The tradition is, that traveling in Massachusetts, on one 
occasion he became very hungry, and stopping at a way- 
side inn, he ordered dinner, which was long delayed. 

The delay gave him time to think of his spiritual hunger, 
and to compose this tune. 

It is often used for the hymn beginning: 


“Lo! what a glorious sight appears.” 


No. 614. 


“WELLESLEY” (Tune). 


Miss Lizzir 8S. Tources. 


This tune was written by a school girl, daughter of the 
eminent composer and singer, Dr. Eben Tourgee. She was a 
member of the High School at Newton, Massachusetts. 

A hymn for the graduating class had been written, and 
she had been asked to write the music for it. She took it 
to her father, telling him that she did not know how to 
compose a tune appropriate to the words. 

“Sit down to the piano,” replied her father, “put the words 
before you and try.” ; 

She did as directed, and this tune came floating into her 
mind. Her father, in publishing it later, gave it the name 
of the college near by, “Wellesley.” 


lie yo" “STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 616. 
“PEACE MY HEART, BE CALM, BE-SLibi.- 


Rev. Cuartes Wester, 1708—1788. 


The wife of Charles Wesley was at one time attacked by 
smallpox, and before she had entirely recovered, their first 
born child died: of the same disease. 

The father wrote this hymn for his own, but more espe- 
cially for his wife’s comfort, entitling it, “A Mother’s Act 
of Resignation on the Death of a Child.” 


A city pastor once found his way into a cellar, in one of 
the poverty-stricken parts of Manchester, England. 

The father was dying of consumption, and the mother 
was bending over the body of her dead child. 

The minister tried first to console the mother in her 
sorrow, and then turned to the father, and told him of the 
bright hope there was for those who died in childhood. 

The man replied that he knew of no such hope, and 
pointing to a shelf, on which were a few infidel books, he 
said, those books contained his opinions. 

“Yes,” said the minister, “but these books give you no 
comfort now. I’m not going to dispute with you, but J 
have a wife, and we, too, have lost a child. My wife was 
reconciled to her loss, by thinking what her child had gained, 
and there is a hymn written by a man in just such cireum- 
stances as you are in now, that helped us, and it may help 
you.” And then he read this hymn. 

When he finished, the mother’s face was calm, and there 
was a tear in the father’s eye. Then he prayed, and when 
he had ended, it was the mother’s voice that first spoke. 
“T will follow my child to Jesus,” said she; “And so will I,” 
the father responded. ! 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 537 


No. 616. 
“WHEN THOU MY RIGHTEOUS JUDGE SHALT COME.” 


SELINA SHIRLEY, Countess oF HuNnTINGDON. 


A titled lady spoke offensively of Lady Huntingdon, in 
the presence of King George the Third, and he replied, 
“Pray, madam, are you acquainted with Lady Huntingdon?” 

“T am not,” was the reply. 

“Have you ever been in her company?” again the King 
asked. 

“Never,” said the somewhat astonished lady. 

“Never form your opinion of any one,” said the King, 
“from the ill-natured remarks and censures of others. Judge 
for yourself, and you have my leave to tell everybody how 
highly I think of Lady Huntingdon.” 


Lady Huntingdon, and her husband too, were earnest 
Christian people. She employed preachers, and built chapels 
for them to preach in, and gathered about her so many 
zealous evangelists, that they formed almost a denomination 
by themselves, and were known as, “The Lady Huntingdon 
Connexion.” They annoyed some of the less-zealous clergy 
of the established church, and a Bishop once complained 
to that same King George the Third, that these zealous 
preachers of Lady Huntingdon disturbed his diocese. 

“Make Bishops of them, make Bishops of them,” the King 
replied. 

“That might be done,” the Bishop rejoined, “but 
please your Majesty, we cannot make a Bishop of Lady 
Huntingdon.” 

“Tis true,” chimed in the Queen, “but it would be a 
lucky dirclimatandé if you could, for she puts you all to 
shame.” 

This was the sort of woman who though no great poet, 
yet wrote one or two hymns which pel survived their 
author, and come down tor us. 


538 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 617. 
“SISTER, THOU WAST MILD AND LOVELY.” 


Rev. SamvurL F. SMITH. 


This hymn, written by the author of, “My Country, ’tis 
of Thee,” was once made very apt use of by Dr. Lowell 
Mason, in connection with the composition of one of his 
own tunes. 

He was, in 1833, teaching music in the public schools of 
Boston. In July of that year, a girl of sixteen died, who 
had been a member of the Mt. Vernon School, much beloved 
by her companions, and who had taken much interest in 
Dr. Mason’s singing lessons. 

When the hour for the next lesson after her death arrived, 
Dr. Mason entered the room, and at once commenced writ- 
ing upon the blackboard a series of exercises for the pupils 
to sing. He said but little, and nothing about the girl who 
had died, but these blackboard exercises were all of a plain- 
tive sort, in harmony with the feeling of solemnity which 
pervaded the school. 

When the music hour was nearly done, he rapidly com- 
bined the short passages they had been practising into a 
tune, and had them sing it several times, until they had 
become a little familiar with it, and then he quickly wrote 
on the board beneath the music, the words of this hymn: 


“Sister, thou wast mild and lovely.” 


And the whole school sang it to the tune just written for 
it, when Dr. Mason closed the lesson, and left the room. 

The impression left on the minds of the pupils, by this 
delicate tribute to their companion who had died, was deep 
and lasting. 

In memory of the occasion, he gave to the tune the name 
of the school, “Mt. Vernon.” 


“HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 539 


No. 518. 
“ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS’ NAME.” 
Rev. Epwarp PrRRONET. 


One evening John Wesley was preaching in his chapel 
in London, when he chanced to see, sitting among the 
audience, a brother minister, with whom he had had some 
acquaintance, but whom he had never heard preach. 

This seemed to him like a long-sought opportunity, and 
so, without so much as saying, “By your leave, Sir,” he 
announced that the man would preach in that pulpit on the 
following morning at five o’clock. 

The preacher so unceremoniously announced did not wish 
to disturb the meeting by a refusal, especially as that would 
seem to oppose Mr. Wesley, and yet he didn’t altogether like 
that method of arranging matters. 

Next morning at five o’clock he was in the pulpit. After 
the opening service was over, he said that he had been 
announced to preach, without consultation, and should do 
so only at the expense of his own feelings, out of respect for 
Mr. Wesley. But that although weak, and unprepared, he 
should give them the best sermon they had ever heard, and 
then he read the Sermon on the Mount, and without a word 
of comment, closed the service with song and prayer. 

This was Edward Perronet, who wrote one splendid 
hymn: 

“All hail the power of Jesus’ name.” 


It is needless to suggest, that if the good brothers had 
lived in these times, neither one of them would have done 
so discourteous a thing. 


540 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 619. 
“WHOSOEVER HEARETH, SHOUT, SHOUT THE SOUND.” 


Puiuie B.ulIss. 


In the winter of 1869, a young evangelist from England, 
named Henry Moorhouse, came to this country to preach. 

He was quite small in stature, and boyish in appearance, 
and scarcely more than a boy in years. 

Some one tells the story of going to hear him one evening, 
when he took for his text the words recorded in John, 3:16, 
“God so loved the world,” etc., and thinking that he never 
heard so much brought out of that wonderful text before. 
So he went next night, to see what he would have to say on 
some other verse, and was surprised to hear the same text 
announced, and another sermon, different entirely from the 
first, and throwing still more light upon the words. 

And so for six successive evenings, this boy preacher, as 
he was called, preached from the same text, unfolding each 
evening more and more of its meaning and power. 

This hymn, with the tune to which it is sung, was written 
by Mr. Bliss, after listening to these six sermons, to embody 
the new views he had received, of the freeness and fulness o£ 
the gospel invitation, as given in this text. 


No. &20. 
“I LOVE TO STEAL AWHILE AWAY’—1818. 


Mrs. PHorse HinspaLteE Brown, 1783—1861. 


Phoebe Hinsdale was an orphan girl at Canaan, New 
York. 

A few months of school in each year, forgetting between 
times nearly all she had been taught before, found her at 
eighteen years of age, still unable to read. 


‘ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 541 


She married a house painter by the name of Brown, who 
took her to Ellington, Connecticut; but marriage did not 
improve her fortune. She was poor, and pressed by the hard, 
unending cares of the house, and of children, and sometimes 
in the early evening, just to have a bit of quiet, she would 
leave her kitchen, and her children, and walk back and 
forth, under a row of elms, that grew along the roadside, 
between her home and the nearest neighbor. 

One day she was visiting at the house of her pastor, Rev. 
Dr. Hyde, and his neighbor, with others, was present. Just 
as Mrs. Brown was rising to go home, this lady turned to 
her, and somewhat curtly said, “Mrs. Brown, why do you 
come up at evening so near our house, and then go back 
without coming in? If you want anything, why don’t you 
come in and ask for it? I could not think who it was, and 
sent my girl down the garden to see; and she said it was you, 
that you came to the fence, but seeing her turned quickly 
away, muttering something to yourself.” 

Mrs. Brown made no reply, but that evening, after the 
children were all in bed, except the baby, she sat down in 
the kitchen with the baby in her arms, and burst into a 
flood of tears, and then she wrote what she called, “An 
Apology for her Twilight Rambles,” addressing them to this 
lady. ; 

“T love to steal awhile away, 
From little ones and care.” 


This was strictly true. “I had,” she says, “four little chil- 
dren, a small unfurnished house; a sick sister in the only 
furnished room, and there was not a place above or below, 
where I could retire for devotion without a liability to be 
interrupted.” 

But after the unkind words spoken to her that day, she 
never took that walk again. 


542 | STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 621. 
“LISTED INTO THE CAUSE OF SIN.” 


Rev. CHarues WESLEY. 


Charles Wesley stood in the open air, one day, in a sea- 
port town of England, and began to sing. This was the way 
in which he often gathered an audience, and it was his pur- 
pose now, when his singing had drawn a crowd together, to 
preach a sermon to them. 

But there came along a party of jolly sailors, “half seas 
over” with grog, and hearing the singing, they stopped and 
began to sing themselves. But their song was one of their 
own, and not that which Mr. Wesley sang. 

He could not compete against their greater numbers, and 
so he made one of those quick turns, at which he was such 
an adept, and having caught the music of the song they 
sang, he challenged them to come back again later in the 
day, and he would be there and sing them a new song to 
their own tune. 

They came at the appointed time, and so did he, and this 
was the song he sang. The tars were generous fellows, and 
owning themselves beaten, they enjoyed the song, and 
_ stayed to hear the sermon that came after it. 

The tune was, ‘Nancy Dawson.” 


No. 522. 
Miss ANNE STEELE. 


_In the town of Broughton, England, there was a Baptist 
preacher who had been born there, and yet was an exception 
to the proverb, about the honor a prophet has in his own 
country, for he was so popular a preacher that he drew 
away the flock of the curate of the Established Church, who 


le Been -_ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 543 


complained to his Bishop of the depletion of his parish, and 
asked how he might best oppose him. 

“Go home,” said the Bishop, ‘and preach better sermons 
than Henry Steele, and your people will return.” 

It may seem a little far-fetched as an introduction to this 
hymn, to relate an incident about her father’s uncle, as I 
have done, but when the Rev. Henry Steele laid down the 
pastorate of that church, his nephew took it up, and carried 
it on for sixty years, and the incident will give you the 
surroundings amid which Anne Steele was nurtured. 

This father wrote in his diary one day—it was November 
29, 1757—“This day Nannie sent a part of her composition 
to London to be printed. I entreat a gracious God, who 
enabled and stirred her up to such a work, to direct it, 
and bless it, for the good and comfort of many.” 

And later, three times at least, the father records in his 
diary, his prayer that the book his daughter has written may 
be made useful in the world. 

Is it any wonder that hymns, so tended by a father’s care, 
and followed as they started out, by a father’s prayers, have 
come down to us through a century and a quarter, and are 
still singing their way along among the churches? 





No. 523. 


BERNARD OF CuiAIRVAUX, 1091—1153. 


One of the most wonderful, as well as one of the best of 
men, was Bernard the Monk of Clairvaux. 

The story of his life reads like a romance. An evening 
might be spent in talking about it, and the talk would be 
stimulating to every noble virtue and pure thought. 

When twenty-five years old, he was chosen leader of a 
band of twelve monks, who started out to found a new 
monastery. 

The spot was a valley, in the midst of pathless forests, 
and haunted by robber bands. It was called the “Valley of 


544 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Wormwood,” but he, with the band which gathered about 
him, transformed it into a place of beauty, and changed its 
name to “Clairvaux,” the bright valley. 

He was an eloquent preacher, and he preached the cru- 
sade, until his appeal stirred not only France, but Europe, 
to wrest from the hands of the Turk the Holy Land and 
Sepulcher. But he preached a crusade against sin in the 
heart, and in the life, as well as a crusade against the Turks, 

He was one of the most active men of his age, shared in 
all its contests, and worked with unceasing diligence to 
reform the religion of the church, and the lives of the people. 

His personal life and influence was as lovely as it was 
commanding. His eyes were described as “dove like,” his 
face as “angelic,” his smile as “benevolent,” his letters as 
“the bread of consolation,” and men who had come under 
his influence, flocked to him at Clairvaux, to be near him 
-for counsel, and sympathy, and help, and as they stood 
weeping about his bed, when at sixty-two he was dying, his 
last whispered words were: “I am in a strait betwixt two, 
having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far 
better; nevertheless the love of my children urgeth me to 
remain here below.” 


No. 524. 
“A DEEP AND HOLY AWE,” 


JOACHIM NEANDER. 


One day a wild and careless German boy, with a couple 
of boon companions, went into a church in Bremen to 
ridicule the service. But the sermon they heard touched 
the leader’s conscience, and set him thinking, and then led 
him to reform his wild life. 

He was fond of hunting, and one day he followed his 
game so far, that night came on, and he lost his way among 
the mountains, where climbing even by daylight was 
perilous. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 545 


After wandering about a while, he suddenly found himself 
on the edge of a cliff, where another forward step would 
throw him down a precipice. He was almost overcome with 
terror, and prayed to God for rescue, and promised if it 
were given to devote his life to His service. 

All at once, as if by miracle, he felt his strength and 
courage return, and he imagined a hand was leading him. 
He followed it, and it brought him safely to his home. 

He kept his vow. By and by he became head master of 
a school at Diisseldorf, and he taught religion to his scholars 
as well as mathematics, and outside of school he preached, 
and held other religious services. 

These gave offense, and he was commanded not to preach, 
was deposed from his school, and banished from the town. 
It was in the summer when this occurred, and he wandered 
away into a glen on the River Rhine, and here he lived for 
several months in a cave in the rocks, still known as “Nean- 
der’s Cave,” and here he wrote hymns, which remembering 
his promise to God, he called “Songs of the Covenant,” and 
this was one of these songs written in ““Neander’s Cave.” 


No. 625. 
“Q LORD THY HEAVENLY GRACE IMPART.” 


Rev. JoHNn FREDERICK OBERLIN, 1740—1826. 


In the year 1767, a young man of twenty-seven years 
became the pastor of a little mountain village, in the north- 
eastern part of France between Alsace and Lorraine. 

He found his people few in numbers, poor, ignorant, and 
for the most part irreligious. 

He entered at once into the life of the people, taught them 
better modes of cultivation than they had known before, 
helped them to build roads and to improve their homes, sent 
their boys away to learn trades, and founded a school for 
those who remained at home, and while caring for their 


546 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


souls, so interested himself in their temporal welfare too, 
that the population increased fivefold, and the place was 
everywhere spoken of for the piety, and prosperity of its 
people. 

One Sunday in 1820, he preached a sermon to his people 
from the text, “He shall see of the travail of His soul, and 
shall be satisfied,” and at the close of the sermon he read 
this hymn, and then said, ““My dear friends, may these be 
the feelings of our hearts,.and as such let us sing them,” 
and then the whole congregation joined in singing the words 
their pastor had written. 


No. 526. 
“J WANT TO BE AN ANGEL.” 


Mrs. Sypney P. GILL. 


For many years this was a very popular Sunday school 
song, and perhaps at that time it was useful, but there are 
better hymns for that use now, containing sentiments more 
natural and helpful. 

Its author had been teaching the infant class, in a Phila- 
delphia Sunday school, and angels had been the subject of 
the lesson. 

At the close a little child spoke up, “I want to be an 
angel.” The child died a few days after, and the hymn was 
written to be sung in her memory, in the school to which 
she belonged. 


No. 527. 
“TUST AS I AM WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE ELLIoTT. 


John B. Gough tells a curious story, the point of which 
is associated with the singing of this hymn. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 547 


Sitting in a city church, one morning, he was annoyed by 
the actions of a man whom the usher showed into the same 
pew. 4 
The man’s face was repulsive, “mottled,” as Mr. Gough 
described it, “like castile soap.” His lips twitched, and 
every now and then his mouth would make a singular 
sound. | 

Mr. Gough moved away from him as far as he could, to 
the other end of the pew. By and by the audience arose to 
sing this hymn: 


“Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me.” 


The man knew the hymn, and sang without any book. 
And Mr. Gough said to himself, ‘He can’t be such a very 
disagreeable man after all,” and he moved along a little 
nearer to him. But such work as he made of the singing, 
“Tt was awful, positively awful. I never heard anything 
like it,” said Mr. Gough, “and every now and then in the 
midst of the singing his mouth would twitch out that strange 
sound, and then he would sing faster to catch up with the 
music.” 

At the end of one stanza, while the organist was playing 
the interlude, he leaned over toward Mr. Gough and whis- 
pered, “would you be kind enough to give me the first line 
of the next verse?” Mr. Gough repeated it to him: 


“Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind.” 


“That's it!” said he, “that’s it, and I am blind, God 
help me!” And the tears ran down his face, “And I ‘am 
wretched, and I am a paralytic.” And then he tried to sing, 


“Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind, 
Sight, riches, healing of the mind, 
Yea all I need, in Thee to find, 

O Lamb of God I come! I come!” 


548 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“And at that moment,” says Mr. Gough, “with the new 
revelation he had made of himself to me, it seemed to me I 
had never heard in my life a Beethoven Symphony with as 
much music in it as the blundering singing of that poor, 
blind paralytic.” 


No. 528. 
“CHRISTIANS, AWAKE, SALUTE THE HAPPY MORN.” 


JOHN Byron. 


A century and a half ago, in England, it was a rare streak 
of good fortune for a man to keep out of jail his whole life 
through, provided he had any opinions. Party feeling ran 
very high, and a new party coming into power not only 
appointed its adherents to the offices, but put its opponents 
behind prison bars, where it was supposed their opinions 
would do less harm than in the open air. 

And then there was always a possibility that the king of 
today might be the refugee or the pretender of tomorrow. 

John Byron, who lived from 1700 to 1763, and taught 
shorthand for a living much of the time, was as quaint as 
he was pious, and fully alive to the danger of having too 
pronounced political opinions. | 

He favored the House of Stuart, but on one occasion he 
was present when toasts were in order, and he was called 
on for a toast to the King. With quick wit he improvised 
a stanza which extricated him from his dilemma, and gave 
him some celebrity as well: 


“God bless the King, 
I mean the Faith’s defender: 
God bless, no harm in blessing, the Pretender: 
But who Pretender is, or who is King, 
God bless us all, that’s quite another thing.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 549 


No. 529. 
“HE IS GONE, A CLOUD OF LIGHT.” 


Rev. ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY. 


It is a never-ending wonder, when one traces things back 
to their causes, to see how prominent a factor in the world’s 
history have been occurrences, in themselves trivial. 

Some children had been reading the story of the Ascension 
of Christ, “While they beheld, He was taken up, and a 
cloud received Him, out of their sight, and while they looked 
steadfastly toward heaven as He went up,” etc., and they 
asked their father how the disciples felt after that, and 
complained that there was no hymn that spoke of it. 

The father told Dean Stanley of this, and asked if he 
could not write a hymn to supply the vacancy the children 
had noticed. 

It was done, and soon after published in a magazine, with 
no thought that it would have other fate than that befalling 
other bits of poetry so published. 

But the children had told a want of many another dis- 
ciple, and the piece soon found its way into the hymnals, 
and has made for itself a permanent place in the song service 
of Christians, especially those who love to recognize with 
suitable worship each year as the anniversary days come 
round, the chief events in the life of Christ. 

Sir Arthur Sullivan composed for it the tune of “St. 
Patrick,” to which it is usually sung. 


No. 530. 
“J AM SO GLAD THAT OUR FATHER IN HEAVEN.” 


Puitie Buiss. 


Soon after Mr. Bliss began his work as @ singing evange- 
list, there came into use a revival song, the chorus of which 


5950 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


began, “O how I love Jesus,” and Mr. Bliss heard and sang 
this song a great many times, until he said to himself, “I 
have sung long enough of my poor love for Christ, and now 
I will sing of His love for me.” So he wrote the hymn: 


“I am so glad that our Father in Heaven, 
Tells of His love in the book he has given, 
Wonderful things in the Bible I see, 

This is the dearest that Jesus loves me.” 


This is a much more appropriate subject for a hymn than 
the other, and more in accord with the teaching of the Bible, 
which says, “Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that 
He loved us.” 


No. 531. 


GRANVILLE Maxim. 


In the early part of the present century, there lived in 
the town of Buckfield, Maine, a man of marked ability, but 
of eccentric habits. 

He was a great lover of music, and many of the melodies, 
used in revival services of that day, were of his composition. 

Tradition tells the story, that in early life he was disap- 
pointed in a love affair, and one morning took a rope, and 
wandered away into the forest, intending to commit suicide. 

He sat down to rest and think, at a deserted logging camp, 
and as he sat he heard a bird singing her lament, over some 
robber of her nest. By and by he thought he would leave 
some memento which might chance to come to the eye of 
the lady he loved, and that would tell her of his grief. 

So he cut a piece of birch bark, and wrote on it a stanza: 


“As on some lonely building top, 
The sparrow tells her moan, 
Far from the tents of joy and hope, 
I'll sit and grieve alone.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 551 


And then he began to write a melody to suit the words, 
and becoming more and more interested in the song, he 
added other parts until he had completed a beautiful piece 
of music, and then he pictured to himself how the song 
would sound, if a skilful choir should perform it, and with 
it all his thought of suicide vanished away. 

He found a purpose for which to live, and he returned to 
the town, and to useful pursuits. 

The hymn, “Come Holy Spirit, Heavenly Dove,” was for- 
merly sung to the tune of “Turner,” composed by Mr. 
Maxim, and other tunes by him, once popular, but now 
fallen into disuse were, ‘““Buckfield” and “Portland.” 


No. 582. 
Francis JosepH Haypn, 1732—1809. 


One day two elderly gentlemen were dining together in 
Hamburg. They were both masters of music, one living at 
Hamburg and the other at Vienna. 

They were talking of music, and musicians, when sud- 
denly the one who was at home declared to the other that 
he had right then in his house a boy, who was, he thought, 
a musical prodigy. 

He had found him at his father’s house in the country, 
singing and keeping time with a couple of sticks, while his 
father played the harp and his mother sang. He had 
brought him to his home, and was teaching him, music. 

So the boy was brought in from the kitchen, where he 
was eating his dinner with the cook, and although baskful 
at first, as soon as he was told to sing, forgot it all, and 
throwing his head back, burst out into melody like a bird. 

The visitor was delighted, and exclaimed, “He shall come 
to Vienna with me, and sing in my choir.” And so he car- 
ried the boy away from Hamburg to Vienna, and there his 
fine sweet voice delighted all the town. 


552 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


One day the roguish boy cut off the tail of one of the 
singer’s wigs, and his master turned him out, right then and 
there, of choir and home. 

It was a winter’s night, and the poor boy was friendless 
and homeless. At last as he wandered along the street he 
thought of a poor barber who had once spoken kindly to 
him, and to this house he went. 

The barber took him in and gave him a home, and by 
and by, when the poor homeless boy had become the famous 
composer, Francis Joseph Haydn, he married the barber’s 
daughter. 

Haydn gathered about him a circle of musical young 
fellows like himself, and their chief recreation was going 
about Vienna on moonlight nights serenading famous 
musicians. 

One night they played one of Haydn’s compositions under 
the window of Herr Curtz, the leader of the opera in the 
city. Suddenly a window opened and Herr Curtz himself 
shouted to know who was playing the violin. “Joseph 
Haydn,” came back the answer. 

“Whose music is it?” 

“My own,” and almost before the young player knew 
what was going on, Curtz was down to the ground, had him 
by the collar, and was marching him upstairs into the mas- 
ter’s music room. Then he told him that he wanted him 
to compose some music for him, and gave him his subject. 

Haydn went to the piano, and soon caught the thought 
Herr Curtz wished to express, and got a hundred florins for 
his work. Soon after he got an appointment in the house- 
hold of Prince Esterhazy, when his curious duty was to have 
a piece of music ready to lay at the Prince’s plate at break- 
fast every morning. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 303 


No. 533. 
“THE HARMONIOUS BLACKSMITH.” 


GrorGE Frepperick HANDEL. 


Handel was one day going to the palace of the Duke of 
Chandos, near London, when he was overtaken by a shower 
of rain, and took shelter in a blacksmith shop. 

The blacksmith kept on with his work, and sang a song 
as he worked. 

Handel was attracted by the song, but more by the curi- 
ous fact that the blacksmith’s hammer kept time with the 
song, and drew from the anvil two harmonious sounds 
according with the melody of the song, and making a sort 
of continuous bass. He remembered the air with its queer 
accompaniment, and when he returned home composed this 
piece of music. 


No. 584. 
“JORDAN” (Tune). 
WiiurAM Biiurnes, 1746—1800. . 


This tune was composed by the first American musical 
composer of whom there is any record. 

He was a Boston tanner without education but with much 
natural genius. He is described as somewhat deformed, 
blind of one eye, one leg shorter than the other, one arm 
somewhat withered, and continually taking snuff. He pub- 
lished half a dozen books of music, in each of which he 
sifted out the inferior work of the book which had preceded 
it, or improved them by his increased experience. 

His music was much ridiculed by some, as may be in- 
ferred from the fact that some one hung a couple of cats 
over his tanner’s sign as an intimation that their harmonies 
were much like his. 

However, his tunes were very popular, and were indeed 


554 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


almost the only music known in New England during the 
last quarter of the last century. 

The American Army also used them in camp, and march, 
through the years of the Revolution, and they did much to 
encourage and cheer the soldier’s hearts. 

One of the tunes was named “Chester,” and he wrote the 
words as well as the music. It was a patriotic hymn 
appropriate to those stirring times, beginning: 


“Let tyrants shake their iron rod, 
And slavery clank her galling chains: 
We'll fear them not—we trust in God; 
New England’s God forever reigns.” 


But although he was a patriot in full sympathy with the 
political independence of the colonies, still in Christian wor- 
ship he saw no reason why the independent colonies should 
not be in unison with the mother country, and so he wrote 
a stanza, which if we give to it the pronunciation of the 
olden time, makes very good rhyme: 


“Oh, praise the Lord with one consent, 
And in this grand design, 

Let Britain and the colonies 
Unanimously join.” 


Mr. Billings died in 1800, and lies buried in the old “Gran- 
ary Burial Ground” in Boston, with no stone to mark his 
grave. 

Some of his tunes are, “Chester,” “Majesty,” “Rock of 
Ages,” “Christ the Lord is Risen Indeed,” “Jordan,” etc. 


No. 535. 


Rev. Samvuet Meptey, 1738. 


Nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, in 1758, an English 
boy, not yet twenty years of age, entered the English navy, 
and was soon after wounded in a battle. 


EE 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 505 


His wound proved very serious, and the surgeon told him 
he was afraid that amputation was the only thing that 
would save his life. “But,” said he, “I can tell tomorrow 
morning.’ 

The boy had been religiously trained by a pious father, 
but while in the navy he had led a profligate life. But now 
the surgeon’s words brought rushing back to him the prayers 
he had heard his father offer, and fe began to pray himself, 
spending much of the night in that way. 

When the surgeon examined the wounds next morning, he 
lifted his hands in surprise, and exclaimed, “This is little 
short of a miracle.” So favorable a change had taken place 
that no amputation was needed, and the wounds speedily 
healed. 

The boy resolved to reform his life, but like many another 
who makes that resolution in his own strength, he failed. 
Returning to his home he lived with his grandfather, and 
one Sunday evening he asked the servant if his grandfather 
was going out to church. “No,” was the reply, “he is 
coming to read a sermon to you.” . 

And the young man was compelled to listen to one of 
Dr. Watts’ sermons. He was indifferent at first, but soon 
the words of the sermon began to touch his heart, and as 
soon as it was ended, and his grandfather had left the room, 
he fell on his knees in prayer, and was soon after converted, 
and later he became a preacher of the gospel. 

I think it adds interest to a hymn, sometimes, to know 
something of the experiences through which its author 

passed. 
No. 536. 


“CREATION,” Oratorio—1799. 


Francis JosepH Haypn, 1732—1809. 


The idea of setting to music, to be sung, the Bible story 
of the creation of the world, must have come from a man 
of daring as well as of genius. 


556 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


-Haydn’s “Oratorio” was first produced in Vienna in 1799. 
The words for it, except those taken from the Book of 
Genesis, were arranged from Milton’s “Paradise Lost.” 

The Oratorio was at once a great success, and is still 
among the grandest of the Oratorios. 


No. 537. 
“°TTS RELIGION THAT CAN GIVE.” 


Mary Masters. 


There are hymns written by men and women of the high- 
est literary culture, and hymns of high poetic merit, which 
have made no history for themselves; while there are others 
of no literary value, and written by illiterate authors, which 
have yet become powers for good, 

A century and a half ago, in 1733, a poor English woman 
published a little volume of poems, and in the preface it is 
stated that she was “never taught her English grammar. 
Her education rose no higher than the spelling book or the 
writing master; her genius to poetry was always browbeat 
and discountenanced by her parents,” and more of like 
import. 

Twenty years later, in 1755, she published still another 
book, and in it appeared what she called a “Short Ejacula- 
tion” containing but six lines, as follows: 


“Tis religion that can give 
' Sweetest pleasures while we live; 
’Tis religion must supply 
Solid comfort when we die, 
After death its joys will be 
Lasting as Eternity.” 


1 do not know what the history of these six lines has been, 
as they have sung their way along the years for this century 
and a half, but somewhere along the road, some one, prob- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 557 


ably a singing evangelist, interlined it with a refrain, and 
lengthened it with a chorus so that it read: 


“Tis religion that can give, 
In the light, in the light, 
Sweetest pleasure while we live, 
In the light of God. 


-“Tet us walk in the light, 
In the light, in the light, 
Let us walk in the light, 
In the light of God.” 


In this form, as it was sung during a revival time, a young 
man heard it in a congregation, as he says, of “common 
people, by voices many of them cracked and discordant,” 
and yet he says: “I think it was the singing of that simple 
old hymn and chorus that awakened in me the desire to be 
a Christian by setting before me its promise of ‘sweetest 
pleasure’ and ‘solid comfort’ in strong contrast with the 
unsatisfactory portions I was getting from worldly pleas- 
ures, and the fear of death that was constantly before me.” 
And then he adds, “Eternity only will reveal the power that 
hymn had over me, both in bringing me to God, and in 
strengthening and encouraging me in the first days of trial 
and temptation, that came to me as a young Christian.” 

You will agree that there is still another thing, that Eter- 
nity alone will reveal, of the results growing out of the 
singing of this hymn, when I tell you that the young man 
who thus describes the effect it had upon him, was Rev. 
George F. Pentecost. 


No. 588. 
“COME LET US JOIN OUR FRIENDS ABOVE.” 
Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


The author of this hymn died three years before his 
brother John. They had been roommates in college days, 


508 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and from that time on through sixty years of preaching, and 
writing, and working, had been companions and co-workers 
in founding the great denomination of Methodists. 


One Sunday morning, after the death of Charles, the sur- 
viving brother John, himself an aged man, arose in the pul- 
pit of the City Road Chapel, London, to announce the 
opening hymn, but instead of doing s0, he stood silent with 
eyes closed for nearly ten full minutes. Then with a feeling 
that told of the emotion of his heart, he began to read this 
hymn: 

“Come let us join our friends above, 
That have obtained the prize, 
And on the eagle wings of love, 
To joys celestial rise.” 


It seemed to those who were present as if they were about 
to witness the meeting again of the brother who had “ob- 
tained the prize” with the one who was still striving for it. 

And when they sang the hymn it seemed almost as if the 
host that had “crossed the flood” were joining voices with 
those on the hither side. 


No. 539. 
“IN THE CHRISTIAN’S HOME IN GLORY.” 


Rev. SaMvuEL Youna Harmar, 1809. 


The influence, upon after life, of hymns learned in child- 
hood, can hardly be measured. They come into the mind 
when least expected, and sometimes when least desired, but 
always on some good errand. 

An English actor was one evening in the midst of a play 
on the stage, when this hymn which he had learned in his 
childhood came rushing into his mind, and so unmanned him 
that he was obliged to go to the manager and tell him that 
he could not go on. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 559 


In an effort to stifle the thoughts which the hymn brought 
to his mind, he went to the bar of the theater, and drank. 

He shortly after. attended one of the Moody and Sankey 
meetings, and was converted, and then related this incident. 


No. 540. 
“COME, O THOU TRAVELER UNKNOWN.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


This is a very celebrated hymn, which has received the 
admiring notice of poets and critics ever since it was written. 
The hymn is entitled, “Wrestling Jacob,’ and this was a 
famous subject with Mr. Wesley not only in poetry but in 
prose. 

His journal records not less than eight different occasions 
when he preached upon that theme, and he records also that 
in most cases the preaching was effective upon the audience. 


No. 541. 
“WATCHMAN, TELL US OF THE NIGHT.” 


Sir Joun BowRrine. 


An old writer says. that, “Whenever the Holy Ghost 
inspireth a new hymn, it is His wont to inspire someone 
with a good tune to fit it.” 

This seems to me to be eminently true of this hymn, and 
the tune to which we sing it. 

-The hymn was written and published in England, in 1825, 
and the tune was written for it, and the two were published 
together in this country in 1831. 

The hymn is a dialogue, and Lowell Mason’s tune for it 
was entitled a “Dialogue and Chorus.” The dialogue being 


560 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


rendered by a soprano voice singing the first two lines, a 
tenor the second two, and so on alternately, and the full 
chorus repeating the last two lines of the stanza to different 
music. The music is practically the same, however, as we 
use it now. 


No. 542. 


“THREE FISHERS WENT SAILING OUT INTO THE 
WEST.” 


Rev. CHARLES KINGSLEY. 


The author of this song, well known as a preacher, poet, 
and novelist, who died but a few years ago, spent his boy- 
hood in a little fishing town on the English coast, where his 
father was rector of the parish. He often saw the fleet of 
herring fishers put out to sea, and witnessed the little reli- 
gious service it was the custom to hold on the wharf before 
they started, in which the fishermen and their wives, and 
sweethearts, and children, joined. 

Later in life, after a weary day, he recalled this scene of 
his youth, and wrote this song. 


No. 643. 
“°*MID PLEASURES AND PALACES.” 
“HOME, SWEET HOME.” 


JOHN Howarp PAYNE. 


A hundred years ago, in 1792, a little boy was born in 
New York City, who was destined to supply the world with 
one of its sweetest, most valued songs. 

From the place of his birth to East Hampton, the most 
easterly town of Long Island, then to Boston, back to New 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 561 


York, to Schenectady to college, then as an actor to New 
York, Baltimore, and Boston, thence to London and Paris, 
and Berlin, and back again to America, and then to Tunis 
in Africa, where he died, the author of “Home, Sweet Home’”’ 
was himself a homeless wanderer his whole life long. His 
song was written when he was nearly starving, with an attic 
for his home in Paris, and when the words he had written 
were known all over the world, he himself said that he had 
often heard them sung in London, Paris, and Berlin, “when 
he had not a shilling to buy his next meal with, nor a place 
to lay his head.” 

He had written quite a number of plays which were suc- 
cessful in every way save in bringing money to their author, 
and in 1823 Charles Kemble, who was manager of Covent 
Garden in London, bought a quantity of these dramatic 
productions. 

Among them was a play entitled, ‘“Clavi, the Maid of 
Milan.” This play Kemble asked the author to alter into 
an opera, and in doing so he introduced into it the words 
of “Home, Sweet Home.” 

A sister of Mrs. Charles Kean was the chief singer at 
Covent Garden then, and she first sang the song as a part 
of this opera. So that the words were first heard in a cele- 
brated theater, under the management of a celebrated man, 
and sung by a celebrated singer. 

The music was written for the words, though not for that 
occasion. Sir Henry Rowley Bishop, an English composer, 
then a young man, had been engaged to edit a collection of 
the national melodies of all countries. 

While engaged in this work, he discovered that he had no 
melody from Sicily, and so he invented this, and it was pub- 
lished in the collection as a Sicilian air, when as a fact it 
was the invention of a London musician. 

The song, with the words of Payne, became at once im- 
mensely popular. A hundred thousand copies were sold 
within a year, the publisher was greatly enriched, even the 
lady who first rendered it was, by the singing of it, brought 


562 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


to the notice of a wealthy gentleman who became her hus- 
band, and Payne, who wrote it, received not so much as the 
price of a night’s lodging. 


No. 544. 
“GUIDE ME O THOU GREAT JEHOVAH.” 


Rey. WiLu1aM WIuuiAMs, 1717—1791. 


Almost two hundred years ago, there lived in a village of 
Wales, a good deacon of an Independent church. He lived 
in the times that were troublous for the churches, and for 
Christians who wished to worship in any other than the 
way established by the state; and the church of which he 
was a deacon had to meet for a time in a cave during the 
hours of twilight, to avoid being swooped down upon, and 
scattered or imprisoned by the King’s soldiers. 

This good deacon had a boy who was intended for a physi- 
cian, and went away to college to prepare for this profession. 

On his way home from ‘college, he was passing through a 
little Welsh village one Sunday morning, when he heard the 
ringing of a parish church bell, and turned in to rest and 
listen. 

The service was formal and cold, and made no impression 
on the young fellow’s mind, but as he passed out of the 
church, he noticed that the people instead of scattering to 
their homes, remained in the churchyard as if expecting 
someone, and in a few minutes a man took his stand upon 
one of the flat tombstones and began to talk. 

There was nothing cold or formal now, but hot, fiery 
torrents of speech, and like the preaching of John the Bap- 
tist, it was a call to “repent for the Kingdom of Heaven is 
at hand.” 

The young man went into the churchyard intending to be 
a doctor, but he came out with his face set another way, 
and soon after he became a preacher. All over Wales, for 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 563 


the next half century, that man went traveling on foot and 
with horse three thousand miles a year, preaching the Gos- 
pel of Christ. He was a poet as well as a preacher, 
and oftentimes improvised poetry in his extemporaneous 
sermons. 

He was absent-minded sometimes, and thereby hangs a 
tale. He was away from home and family one Sunday 
holding a service by the seashore. 

A friend was conducting the opening service, and while he 
was praying a cuckoo began to sing close by the open 
window. 

When the prayer was ended, our poet preacher arose to 
give out the hymn, but instead of a hymn it was a poetic 
appeal to the cuckoo to fly away to the preacher’s home, and 
tell Molly, his wife, that he was alive, and then to go to an- 
other town and tell Jack, his son, to keep his place, and 
added a wish, that should they fail to meet again on earth, 
they might not fail to meet in heaven. 

Just then his friend touched him, and reminded him that 
while what he was giving to the people might be a very good 
sentiment, it was hardly a hymn. And the poet, suddenly 
coming to himself, thought of the great sea whose waves 
were breaking just outside the door, and without a moment’s 
hesitation gave out another stanza: 


“Salvation like a boundless sea 
Keeps swelling on the shore: 
Here shall the weak and helpless find 
Enough for ever more.” 


Perhaps this little glimpse of the life of Wiliam Williams 
will give new interest to the hymns he wrote. Only two of 
them have found their way into the English hymnals. 


“Guide me O Thou great Jehovah,” 
and 


“O’er those gloomy hills of darkness.” 


564 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 644. 
“MY FAITH LOOKS UP TO THEE.” 


Rev. Ray PALMER. 


Mr. Palmer was a young man just out of college, and not 
yet entered upon his theological studies. He was in poor 
health, and teaching a ladies’ school in New York City. 

It was then that this hymn was written, and the stanzas, 
the author says, simply gave form to what he felt. 

“T recollect,” he says, “that I wrote them with very tender 
emotion, and ended the last line with tears.” 

Once written, the lines went into his pocketbook, until 
one day Dr. Lowell Mason met him on a street in Boston, 
and asked him if he had not some hymn that he would con- 
tribute to a new book that he was compiling. The pocket- 
book was produced, and the little hymn was handed out. 

On reaching home, Dr. Mason was so much interested in 
the words, that he composed for it the tune, “Olivet,” to 
which it is even now almost always sung. 

A few days later he met the author again and said, “Mr. 
Palmer, you may live many years, and do many good 
things, but I think you will be best known to posterity as 
the author of, 


“My faith looks up to thee.” 


No. 546. 
“IN THE WAVES AND MIGHTY WATERS.” 


Davin WiuuiAMs, 1718—1784. 


David Williams was a Welsh schoolmaster who had a 
turbulent wife. He preached as well as taught, and the 
story is, that one night on reaching home his wife assailed 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 565 


him with a bitter scolding. Outside a storm was raging, but 
he preferred that to the storm that was raging in his home. 
So out he went again into the darkness, and stood on the 
bank of a river near, and its rushing torrent, and the wail- 
ing of the winds brought to his mind the time when his feet 
should stand on the brink of another river, and what hand 
would help him then, so he wrote: 


“In the waves and mighty waters, 
No one will support my head, 
But my Savior, my Beloved 
Who was stricken in my stead: 
In the cold and mortal river, 
He will hold my head above, 
I shall through the waves go singing, 
For one look of Him I love.” 


* This short hymn has become known wherever the Welsh 
language is spoken. An incident connected with it has given 
to it the title of ““The Miner’s Hymn.” 

In the month of April, 1877, a colliery in Wales was 
flooded, and fourteen miners found themselves imprisoned 
waiting helplessly for death. The whole nation seemed to 
turn its thought toward that coal pit, and as the rescue 
party toiled on by day and night, every hour seemed to 
make the suspense more painful. 

So seven days passed, with no signs of the imprisoned 
miners, and hope was nearly lost, but on the eighth day 
nine of the miners were found, and found alive though 
nearly dead for want of food and air. And as they told 
their story, it came out that despair would have driven them 
mad, had they not cheered themselves by singing over and > 
over the words of this hymn. 


566 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 647, 


Miss ANN GrirrFiTus, 1776. 


In the year of our Independence as a Nation, a farmer’s 
daughter was born in Wales. When she had grown to be a 
young woman, she was as gay as the gayest, and fond of 
dance and song. 

On the way to one such merrymaking gathering, an old 
servant of her father induced her to go aside into a chapel 
meeting. 

A word spoken by the preacher proved to be a message 
for her, and she went to her home instead of to the dance, 
and soon became as widely known for her earnest piety as 
she had been for her gaiety. 

Soon, as she went about her work as a farmer’s girl, or 
as she walked through the woods, and fields, and country, 
roads, she began to think in poetry, and her piety expressed 
- itself in hymns. But she never wrote them down, and but 
for a servant girl in her father’s house the world would not 
have known them. 

To this servant girl she used to recite her hymns as they 
were composed, and then the two girls would sing them to 
some Welsh tune, over and over again. 

When the composer had died, the servant girl, who by 
_ this time had married, repeated them over to her husband, 

who wrote them down, and so they were preserved. 


No. 548. 
“LAND AHEAD! ITS FRUITS ARE WAVING.” 


Rev. E. ADAMS. 


This hymn is a memento of a very curious bit of history: 
~ In the latter part of the eighteenth century (1789) a 
British ship left one of the Sandwich Islands with a cargo 


‘ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH $567 


of bread fruit plants, which were to be transplanted into 
the soil of one of the West India Islands. 

A few days later a part of the crew mutinied, put the 
captain and those who were loyal to him adrift in a boat, 
and for twenty years nothing was heard of ship or men. 

Then a Nantucket whaler stopped at what had always 
been supposed to be an uninhabited island in the Pacific, 
called Pitcairns Island, and was greatly surprised to find it 
the home of the long lost and almost forgotten mutineers 
of the old ship Bounty. 

One of the mutineers, who had assumed the name of John 
Adams, had. drawn up a little code of laws, by which the 
little band was governed. He had been their teacher and 
stranger than all, their religious leader too, for he had 
organized religious worship after the form of the Church of 
England, and then and even down to the present day they 
are a Christian people. 

When, after presiding over his little kingdom wisely and 
beneficently for many years, until it had come to be called 
“The Paradise of the Pacific,” John Adams, the mutineer, 
lay dying, he exclaimed, as if his eyes saw beyond the veil, 
“Land in sight!” 

“Are you happy?” asked one standing by. 

“Rounding the cape into the harbor,’ was the jubilant 
reply, and then at last, as he grew weaker, “Let go the 
anchor,” he exclaimed, and he was dead. 

These words were woven into a song not many years ago, 
and, with the music to which they are attached, have be- 
come quite popular. 


No. 549. 
“1.0! THE DAY OF REST DECLINETH.” 
Rev. CHANDLER Ropssins, 1810—1882. 


The daughter of the author of this hymn was returning 
from Europe on a Cunard steamer. 


568 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


An aged Scotch Presbyterian minister and his wife were 
among the passengers. The party were singing hymns on 
the deck one Sabbath evening, when the minister went to 
his stateroom and brought back a book of hymns and tunes, 
to show to the party what, he said, was the sweetest hymn 
he knew, set to the sweetest tune. 

What was the surprise of the author’s daughter, who, by 
the way, was married, and only known to the Scotchman by 
her husband’s name, to hear him repeat the first line of the 
hymn her own father had written, and to hear him sing it 
to the tune, “Bedford Street,” which had been composed for 
the hymn by Mr. L. B. Barnes, President of the Handel and 
Haydn Society of Boston, and named for the street upon 
which stood her father’s church. 


No. 550. 
“FINDING NO PLACE OF REST.” 
Mr. JoHN Brookb GREENWOOD, 1828. 


This hymn has had the experience of getting into com- 
pany where it was not wanted, and of not being able to 
withdraw. 

Its author was a merchant of Manchester, England, and a 
member of a Congregational church of that city. 

The verses fell into the hands of a relative of the author, 
who was a Roman Catholic, and through her into the hands 
of her priest, and he passed it along into the columns of a 
Roman Catholic newspaper. 

Somewhere on the way they lost the signature. 


Awhile after, Rev. Orby Shipley, a Roman Catholic 


priest, and one of the strictest of that church, conceived 
the idea that members of that church ought not to use, in 
their devotions, hymns written by any not members of their 
own particular branch of the household of faith. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 569 


So he published a collection called, “Annus Sanctus,” 


purporting to contain not a single piece not written by a 
faithful adherent of the Romish Church. 

Finding this hymn to be good poetry, and correct in senti- 
ment, and withal in the columns of a Roman Catholic paper, 
he included it in his book. 

And so in this immaculate selection by monks, and 
priests, and cardinals, there stands this hymn by a plats 
Congregational cotton merchant. 


No. 661. 
“THE KING OF GLORY WE PROCLAIM.” 
JAMES MONTGOMERY. 


At the annual meeting of the Church Missionary Society 
of England, which has under its charge the foreign mission 
work of the Church of England, held in the spring of 1848, 
it was arranged to hold that autumn, a Jubilee service, 
which all its mission stations throughout the world should 
join in. 

James Montgomery was invited to prepare a hymn for 
the occasion, which should be translated into all the lan- 
guages spoken by the people among whom they had missions, 
and which should be sung in all those places on that day as 
a jubilee hymn. 

He wrote this hymn, and when the autumn came, at the 
central meeting in London, he was able, although in his 
seventy-seventh year, to join in the first singing of ' the 
hymn, which that day literally followed the sun in its course, 
until it had belted the earth with song. 


570 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 882. 
“GREAT GOD, THE NATIONS OF THE EARTH.” 


Rev. Wiuu1am Warp, 1769—1821. 


Just before William Carey, the celebrated Baptist mis- 
sionary, left England for his field of work in India, he met 
on a street of Hull, a boy who had been converted, and who 
was working in a printing office in that town. 

“We shall want some one by and by,” said Carey to the 
boy, “to print the Bible for us in the languages of India. 
Hold yourself in readiness when you are needed.” 

The boy never forgot the words, and a few years later 
he went to India to do for Dr. Carey and his associates the 
very work which he had been told he would be needed for, 
and while on the voyage he wrote this hymn. 


No. 553. 
“TELL IT OUT AMONG THE NATIONS.” 


Miss Frances Riptey Havercay, 1836—1879. 


This hymn was written one Sunday when the author was 
prevented by sickness from attending church. She was fol- 
lowing the order of service of the Episcopal Church, and had 
read the words, “Tell it out among the heathen, that the 
Lord is King,” when the thought came to her that the words 
would make a good beginning for a hymn. With the 
thought the words for the hymn came to her faster than she 
could write them, and with them the music, and in a few 
minutes the hymn was written and the tune for it com- 
posed. The tune was named “Epenetus.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 571 
No. 584. 
“JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE Evuiotr, 1789—1871. 


An English magazine, in 1887, invited its readers to send 
in lists of what they regarded as the best hundred hymns. 
About thirty-five hundred lists were received, and this hymn 
was found to be one of the chief favorites of the people, 
but three hymns having a higher number of votes. These 
were, “Rock of Ages,” “Abide with Me,” and “Jesus Lover 
of my Soul.” 


No. 556. 
“HOW SWEET THE NAME OF JESUS SOUNDS.” 


Rev. Joun Newton, 1725—1807. 


An English magazine, in 1887, invited its readers to send 
in lists of what they regarded as the best hundred hymns. 
About thirty-five hundred such lists were sent in, and this 
hymn was found to be one of the chief favorites, but four 
hymns having a higher number of votes. These were, 
“Rock of Ages,” “Abide with Me,” “Jesus Lover of my 
Soul,” and “Just as I Am.” 


No. 586. 


“GOLDEN HARPS ARE SOUNDING.” 


Miss Frances Rwiey Havercat, 1886—1879. 


The author of this hymn was visiting some friends, and 
while with them went to a boys’ school. Being very tired, 


572 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


she leaned against the playground wall, while a friend who 
accompanied her went into the school. Returning in a few 
minutes, he found her scribbling on an old envelope the 
words of this hymn, the thought of which had just suggested 


itself to her. 


No. 587. 
“JERUSALEM, THE GOLDEN.” 
BERNARD OF CLUNY. 


Some years ago there was published in England, the 
biography of a little boy under the title, “A Little Child 
Shall Lead Them.” In this book it is related that when 
this child was suffering agonies which the physicians de- 
clared were almost unparalleled, he would lie without a 
motion or a murmur while the whole of this long poem of 
four hundred lines was read to him. 


No. 558. 
“MY GOD, MY FATHER, WHILE I STRAY.” 
Miss CuarLoTre Exuiott, 1789—1871. 


An English magazine, in 1887, invited its readers to send 
in lists of what they considered the best hundred hymns. 
About thirty-five hundred such lists were sent in, and this 
hymn was found to be among the chief favorites, but five 
hymns standing higher on the list. These were, “Rock of 
Ages,” “Abide with Me,” “Jesus Lover of My Soul,” “Just 
as I Am,” and, “How Sweet the Name of Jesus Sounds.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 573 


No. 559. 
“JESUS LOVER OF MY SOUL.” 


Rev. Cuartes Westey, 1708—1788. 


An English magazine, in 1887, asked its readers to send 
in lists of what they considered the best hundred hymns. 
About thirty-five hundred such lists were received, and this 
hymn was found to stand third in favor among the readers 
of that periodical, the two better liked being “Rock of 
Ages,” and “Abide with Me.” 


No. 560. 
“I LAY MY SINS ON JESUS.” 


Rev. Horatius Bonar, 1808—1889. 


Unlike many writers of hymns, Dr. Bonar kept no record > 
of where, or when, or why his hymns were written. It is 
known that a few of them were written for the use of Mr. 
Sankey when he and Mr. Moody were holding evangelistic 
meetings in Scotland. It is also known that he was in the 
habit of writing them while traveling on railroad trains. 
This one was written when the author was a young man, 
not yet the pastor of a church, but serving as assistant to 
a minister in Leith, Scotland. It was written for the 
children of the Sunday school connected with this church. 


No. 561. 
“I GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE.” 


Miss Frances Riptey Havercau, 1836—1879. 


This idea of a hymn, to be sung by a mixed congregation 
of people, in which the words supposed to be spoken by 


574 _ STORIES OF THE GREAT 


the Savior are sung back to Him by the audience, is a 
very near approach to profanity. This hymn had great 
currency in the earlier days of the Moody and Sankey 
“Gospel Hymn Books,” but is now quite properly almost 
entirely discarded. The author was but a young lady of 
twenty-two and was in Germany. She came in one day 
quite tired and sat down where a picture with the words 
of this first line for a motto hung directly before her. The 
lines of the hymn came into her mind almost at once, and 
she wrote them down with a pencil on a scrap of paper. 
Reading them over, they did not satisfy her, and she 
threw them into the fire, but they fell out unburned, and 
she picked them up and saved them. Later she showed 
them to her father, Rev. W. H. Havergal, who thought 
them worthy of use and wrote for them the tune “Baca.” 
Later the impropriety of singing such words was noticed, 
and the hymn changed in all its stanzas so as to make it 
a song addressed to Christ, beginning: 


“Thy life was given for me.” 


No. 662. 
“ART THOU WEARY, ART THOU LANGUID.” 


Sr. STEPHEN, 725—794. 


It is a long way from the lonely monastery in the valley 
of the Kedron to the sands of Cape Cod, and a long time 
from the middle of the eighth century when this hymn was 
written, to the middle of the nineteenth. And as widely 
different as these places and times, is one use recently 
made of this hymn, written by the distinguished old hermit 
monk of Mar Saba. It occurs in the novel, “Cape Cod 
Folks,” written some years ago by Miss Sally Pratt Mc- 
Lean. Two of the prominent characters in that novel 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 575 


are George Olver and Ben Cradlebow. Near the end of 
the story Ben is drowned in a fierce storm while trying 
with Olver to save a boat’s crew from the same fate. 

- Just before the storm the two have been at work mending 
an old craft, and after the storm is over, and Ben Cradle- 
bow is dead, with the neighbors gathered in one of the 
cottages on the shore, the Captain tells the story, “By and 
by him and George Olver struck up a song. I’ve heern 
’em sing it before, them two. As nigh as I calk’late, it’s 
about findin’ rest in Jesus, and one a askin’ questions, all 
fa’r and squar’, to know the way and whether it’s a goin’ 
to lead thar straight or not, and the other answerin’. And 
he—he was a tinkerin’, way up on the foremast, George 
Olver and the rest on us was astern—and I'll hear to my | 
dyin’ day how his voice came a floatin’ down to us thar— 
chantin’-like it was, cl’ar and fearless and low. So he 
asks, for findin’ Jesus, if thar’s any marks to foller by; 
and George Olver, he answers about them bleedin’ nail 
prints, and the great one in His side. So then that voice 
comes down agin, askin’ if thar’s any crown, like other 
kings, to tell Him by; and George Olver, he answers 
straight about that crown o’ thorns. Then says that other 
voice, floatin’ so strong and cl’ar, and if he gin up all and 
follered, what should he have? What now? So George 
Olver, he sings deep o’ the trials and the sorrowin’. But 
that other voice never shook, a askin’ and what if he helt 
to Him to the end, what then should it be, what then? 
George Olver answers: ‘Forevermore, the sorrowin’ ended— 
Death gone over.’ Then he sings out, like his mind was 
all made up, ‘And if he undertook it, would he likely be 
turned away?’ ‘And it’s likelier,’ George Olver answers 
him, ‘That heaven and earth shall pass.? So Pll hear it 
to my dyin’ day—his voice a floatin’ down to me from up 
above thar, somewhar, askin’ them questions that nobody 
could ever answer like, so soon, he answered ’em for himself.” 


576 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 568. 
“FROM GREENLAND’S ICY MOUNTAINS.” 


To the tune of 


“mv7aAS WHEN THE SEAS WERE ROARING.” 


The first singing of Heber’s missionary hymn affords a 
striking illustration of the scarcity of good hymn tunes 
at that time and of the readiness with which music entirely 
secular was used with sacred words. A poet by the name of 
John Gay—the same, by the way, who wrote the song of 
“Black-eyed Susan”’—about the year 1720 brought out in 
London a new play, new, not only in words, but in style, 
for the action in it was intended to be tragic while the 
language was absurd. The title was “What D’ye Call It?” 
and when it was played, some of the audience, seeing the 
acting but catching but few of the words, were ready to 
shed tears at the pathetic scene, while others who sat nearer 
and not only saw the play but heard the words, were splitting 
their sides with laughter at the absurdity of the combination. 
The author of the play introduced into it a song, the music 
of which was furnished by a no less renowned composer 
than George Frederick Handel. The song began, “ "T'was 
when the seas were roaring.”’ The play soon became obso- 
lete, but the song retained its popularity, and is sung even 
now. When Heber handed the copy of this hymn to 
Dean Shipley to be used at the church service on the follow- 
ing morning he asked, “To what tune will it go?” and then 
suddenly added, “Oh! it will go to ‘’Twas when the seas 
were roaring.’’”’ And to that music first heard as part of 
an uproarious comedy on the stage was our great missionary 
hymn first sung. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 577 
No. 664. 
“NOW BEGIN THE HEAVENLY THEME.” 


Rey. Martin Mapan, 1726—1790. 


A young lawyer in London, who cared neither for 
religion nor its ministers, was spending the evening with 
companions as gay as himself, when they commissioned 
him to go out and hear John Wesley, who was preaching 
that evening in the neighborhood, and to come back to 
them and report for their sport how he looked, acted and 
spoke. Just as he entered the room where the service was 
held, Mr. Wesley was announcing his text, “Prepare to 
meet thy God.’ The gay lawyer was deeply impressed 
at once and more so as the sermon proceeded. 

When it was finished, he returned to his companions, 
who shouted, “Well, have you taken off the old Methodist?” 

‘No, gentlemen,” was the reply, “but he has taken me 
off.” 

He forsook them at once, became a Christian, and turned 
from the practice of the law to the preaching of the gospel. 
He was passionately fond of music and made a collection 
of hymns, which had a remarkable influence on the hymn 
service of his day. This hymn is often attributed to him, 
although it is not certainly known that he wrote it, or any 
other; but many hymns that he used in his collection were 
amended and improved by him, and have been in use ever 
since in his amended form rather than in the shape their 
authors wrote them. 


No. 565. 
“ART THOU WEARY, ART THOU LANGUID.” 
Sr, SrePHEN IN GREEN, 725—794. 


Rev. Joun Mason Neate, Translator. 


The valley of the Kedron from Jerusalem to the Dead 
Sea is a ravine between cliffs that rise on either side so 


* 


578 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


abruptly as to be almost inaccessible. These hillsides are 
full of caves hewn into the face of the rock and used as 
burial places centuries before the time of Christ. 

A few centuries after His coming there arose a passion 
among religionists for a hermit life, and these caves, which 
had before been only the resting places of the dead, 
became the homes of the living. Gradually these hermits 
associated themselves together, and passages were often 
cut from cave to cave, and walls of masonry along the face 
of the cliff were added, to give support* to buildings con- 
nected with these caves. Not far from the Dead Sea, in 
the Kedron Valley, there is still standing a monastery 
which had such a beginning. Several times during the 
fourteen hundred years since it was founded, it has been 
plundered and its monks murdered by Bedouin Arabs and 
Turks, and for safety’s sake, it has been surrounded by 
massive walls, partly the natural rock of the cliff and 
partly masonry. Inside these walls there is a curious maze 
of cells and chambers perched one above another mostly 
cut out of the solid rock, and reached by steps and narrow 
paths. Travelers still visit it, and are hospitably fed and 
lodged by the monks who make it their home. 

Almost twelve hundred years ago, a boy of ten years was 
placed in this monastery under the care of his uncle, who 
was one of its hermit monks, and for sixty years, until 
he died, one of these cells cut in the rock in which some 
patriarch of Old Testament times had been entombed, was 
his sleeping room by night, and his place of meditation 
ond prayer by day. And here he wrote this hymn, which 
is so popular with us today. His name was Stephen, and 
this gives name to the tune “Stephanos,” written for the 
hymn by Mr. Monk. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 579 


No. 566. 
“GRACIOUS SPIRIT, DWELL WITH ME.” 
Rev. Tuomas Toke Lyncu, 1818—1871. 


When a young man, Mr. Lynch was a school teacher in 
England, and at the same time he was in the habit of 
gathering poor people together and preaching to them. His 
personal appearance was peculiar, so peculiar that when at 
college he arose for the first time to speak, his fellow 
students greeted him with laughter. He published a volume 
of poetry entitled “The Rivulet,” and in this all his hymns 
appeared. The book was no sooner published than the 
London Morning Advertiser, which was not only the organ 
of certain London clergymen, but of the London brewers 
as well, pounced upon both book and author. The hymns, 
it was said, “might have been written by a Deist, and many 
of them might be sung by Freethinkers.” They were said 
to be “Christless” and “contradicting the Word of God” 
and also such as “might have been written by a man who 
had never seen a Bible.” The attack became so fierce and 
unrelenting, both against book and author, that at last 
a company including some of the foremost ministers of 
England published a protest against so wanton and unjust 
an accusation. Lynch himself published a reply in poetry, 
the title page of which contained a few lines, which will 
illustrate the bitterness with which he had been fought. 


“Quote him to death! Quote him to death! 
Hit him and hear not a word that he saith. 
Shout and ery out, for this is the man 
Out of whose Spirit the ‘Rivulet’ ran. 
What is his book but a cauldron that brims 
Over and over with poisonous hymns?” 


This is one of the hymns which was so hunted and hooted 
at when first it was written. 


580 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
“No. 567. 


“MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE COMING 
OF THE LORD.” 


Mrs. JuLia Warp Howe (See No. 109). 


In the Autumn of 1861, Mrs. Howe visited Washington, 
and while there drove out one day to witness a review of 
troops that was to take place a little way out of the 
city. While on the way out, a sudden movement of 
Southern troops near the city cut off a small party of 
Union soldiers and broke up the expected review. Riding 
back along the road, the way was filled with soldiers, so 
that she could drive but slowly, and her party began to 
sing some of the well-known war songs, and among them 
“John Brown’s body lies a mouldering in the grave.” This 
song pleased the soldiers very much and they joined in 
the singing of it. Rev. James Freeman Clarke, who was 
one of the party, said to Mrs. Howe, “You ought to write 
some new words to that tune.” The next morning, when 
Mrs. Howe awoke, she was astonished to find words arrang- 
ing themselves in her mind to fit the “John Brown” tune. 
And soon the whole hymn was thought out, and she arose, 
and in the uncertain light scrawled it down upon paper, 
and then went back to bed for another nap. It was 
published soon after but was first brought into prominence 
by Chaplain McCabe in a lecture in Washington, just after 
he had been released from Libby Prison, telling how he 
had obtained a copy of it and sung it after a Union victory. 


No. 568. 


GIOVANNI PipruuiciI DA PALESTRINA, 1524—1594. 


In 1564, the Council of Trent, considered the question 
of church music. The old plain chant had gradually been 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 581 


built upon by the musicians, until it was thought the music 
of the churches had become extravagant, and elaborate, 
and detrimental to the spirit of worship. A large party 
in the Church favored sweeping all these more recent 
innovations away by edict of the Church and returning 
to the simple uninspiring chanting of former times. There 
was an organist just then in Trent who was very anxious 
as to the result. He admitted the excesses into which the 
musical composers had fallen, but thought a style of 
music might be found befitting the sacred uses of the 
Church and yet appealing to the musical taste of the best 
musicians. He pleaded with the members of the council 
so eloquently that at last they consented that a committee 
of their number might listen to three masses he would 
present. The first of these was to be sung in the Sistine 
Chapel at Rome, June 19, 1565. It was a day of great 
importance to the interests of music, for on the decision 
of the committee rested the future of ecclesiastical music, 
and much of the future of musical composers as well. The 
night before the eventful day, the organist spent alone, in 
prayer and final preparation for the morrow. 

The Chapel was filled with the most famous people in 
Rome, and the Pope himself was in the audience. No 
decision from the committee was needed other than a 
formal one, for the Pope himself declared that “A trium- 
phant host of angels in the New Jerusalem might have 
sung to the apostle of the Apocalypse some such inspiring 
strains.” And so it was decided that music of the style of 
this by Palestrina might be composed and used by the 
Church in its worship. Palestrina lived thirty years after 
this and composed masses and hymns for all occasions of 
the Church, many of which have come down to our own 
times and are used in our churches now. 


582 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 569. 
“IT WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY, I ASK NOT TO STAY.” 


Rev. Witu1am Avucustus MUHLENBERG, 1796—1877. 


I consider this hymn among the curiosities of literature. 
The love of life is something that has been implanted in 
our very natures. Animals have it. And the possession 
of reasoning powers only makes the love of it more intense. 
The Bible commends it, and promises it as the reward of 
righteousness. We condemn in unmeasured terms any 
one who so lives as to endanger or shorten it. The noblest 
monument of the man who wrote the hymn is that he 
projected and for years presided over St. Luke’s Hospital 
in New York, the mission of which was to prolong and 
save it. Although you will join heartily in the singing 
of it,. it does not express your sentiments unless by 
disease or misfortune you have become morbid in your 
thoughts. It was only by a chance that the hymn got 
into a hymn book. It had been published in a religious 
newspaper and was offered by Dr. Onderdonk to a committee 
of the Protestant Episcopal Church which was revising its 
church hymnal. When this committee came to vote upon 
the hymns one. by one, Dr. Onderdonk was absent, but the 
author of the hymn himself was present. The hymn was 
pronounced very good but rather sentimental and so was 
rejected, Dr. Muhlenberg, who, by the way, was not sus- 
pected of being the author, voting against it. Next morning 
when Dr. Onderdonk found it had been thrown out, he went 
about among the members of the committee and prevailed 
upon them to restore it. So into the hymnal it went, and 
once in, it has stayed in. That was in 1826, and now in 
1893, after almost seventy years have passed, out of the 
thirty principal hymnals in use by the Evangelical denom- 
inations of America but five omit it. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 583 
No. 570. 
“AWAKED BY SINAI’S AWFUL SOUND.” 


Rev. Samson Occum. 


When George Whitefield, the English evangelist, visited 
America in the middle of the last century, one of his converts 
was an Indian boy of the Mohegan tribe, whose fading 
glories were later related by Cooper in his novel, “The 
Last of the Mohicans.” This Indian boy was instructed 
in a school in Lebanon, Connecticut, and later became a 
preacher of the gospel, sometime among the Montauk 
Indians on Long Island and again among the Oneidas in 
New York. Later he went to England to solicit money 
for the school at which he had been taught, and attracted 
much attention there, as the first Indian preacher they had 
ever heard. He succeeded in raising about ten thousand 
pounds, and this money raised by the Indian preacher was 
the financial foundation of Dartmouth College. He has 
the unique distinction of being the only American Indian 
who has contributed to our-store of sacred song. 


No. 571. 
“A MIGHTY FORTRESS IS OUR GOD”—1527. 


Rev. Martin LutuHer, 1483—1546. 


This is a paraphrase of the forty-sixth Psalm. It has 
been called the battle hymn of Protestantism, for it was 
written in the very year when the Evangelical Princes 
delivered their protest at the Diet of Spires, from which 
the name of Protestant is derived, and it became almost at 
once the song of the Protestant Churches and people all 
over Germany. Their armies sang it as they went into bat- 


584 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


tle, and their martyrs when they stood amid the flames. It 
is characteristic of its author and has been called “Luther 
in Song.” It is as rugged as he and is full of his faith 
and courage. When he was a Romish monk, he was an 
earnest, honest one, and he afterward said that “if ever a 
monk got to heaven by monkery he was determined to get 
there.” Yet here he is singing: 


“Did we in our own strength confide 
Our striving would be losing.” 


The hymn was a great favorite with Luther himself, and he 
often sang it for cheer and comfort. When fatigued with 
the contest in which he was engaged or dismayed by its 
dangers, he would say to Melancthon, his companion and 
helper, “Come, Philip, let us sing the forty-sixth Psalm.” 


No. 872. 
“QO MOTHER DEAR JERUSALEM.” 


Rev. Davin Dickson, 1583—1663. 


Without doubt the most remarkable hymn in all our 
collections is the one known by the general name of “The 
New Jerusalem.” At least two books have been written 
about it, devoted to the task of tracing it back to its 
source. It first took definite form in the hands of Bernard, 
the Monk of Cluny, in the twelfth century, who embodied 
it in a Latin poem of twelve thousand lines. But a century 
earlier, Hildebert, another monk of France, had written 
a poem from which Bernard drew some of his.. And a 
century earlier still, Peter Damian, an Italian cardinal, had 
written on the same subject, and farther back than all, 
Gregory, the Pope, five hundred years before had given the 
leading thought of the hymn to them all. But even he 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 585 


did not originate it. To the Bible itself in the fragmentary 
sayings of Paul and the Apocalypse of John must we go 
for the idea and the imagery of the hymn. The hymn in 
its oldest English form, has about it a cloud of mystery. 
It is in the form of an old manuscript in the British Museum, 
undated, but known to belong to the end of the sixteenth 
century. It is entitled, “A Song made by F. B. P. to the 
tune of Diana.” Many have been the conjectures as to 
whom these initials stand for, and the most probable is 
that they belong to one Francis Baker, Priest, and that he 
was a prisoner in the tower of London when Romish priests 
in England were suffering persecution. A few years later a 
Scotch Presbyterian minister, Rev. David Dickson, gave 
to the hymn essentially the form in which it has come down 
to us. 


No. 578. 
“JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 
Miss CuHarLotTtTe Evxiott, 1789—1871. 


Raratonga is one of the Islands of the Pacific and has 
a hymn book in its own language. There are two transla- 
tions of this hymn in it; one by Rev. W. Wyatt Gill and | 
the other by Rev. Aaron Buzacott, both missionaries on 
the Island. Mr. Gill had just lost two little boys by death, 
and on the last Sabbath before they died, he and the boys 
had sung this hymn together, it being one of their favorities. 
One of the first thoughts of the bereaved father was to 
translate the words now so endeared to him into the lan- 
guage of the people among whom he was laboring. When 
his companion in the mission, Mr. Buzacott, read the hymn, 
it interested him so much that he made an independent 
translation of it himself and both were included in the 
Island Hymnal. 


586 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 8574. 
“AT EVEN ERE THE SUN WAS SET.” 


Rev. Henry TweE.ts, 1823. 


A great many years ago a great physician came to a 
little town lying on the shore of a lake, and performed a 
wonderful cure upon a woman who had been sick of a 
fever. It was in the house of a fisherman where this oc- 
curred, and the woman who had been sick was the mother 
of the fisherman’s wife. They were well known in the place, 
and the news of the cure spread through the town. As soon 
as the glare and heat of the day were past, at the evening 
time, when the sun was setting, the people brought their 
sick to the fisherman’s house, from all over the town, and 
the story relates that many of them were healed. This 
incident, simple though it seems, an English minister thought 
worthy of enshrining in a hymn. It had been already 
better done, however, by an American lady, Mrs. Lydia. 
Huntley Sigourney, in a hymn beginning: 


“Judea’s Summer day went down 
And lo! from vale and plain, 
Around the heavenly Healer thronged 
A sick and sorrowing train.” 


No. 575. 
“GOD IS THE REFUGE OF HIS SAINTS”—1719. 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


Some years ago an English lady while out walking one 
evening on the bank of a river, saw a man approaching the 
stream whose strange actions convinced her that he intended | 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 587 


suicide. What to do she hardly knew, but she wanted to 
prevent the crime if possible, and inspired by a sudden 
thought, she approached him and repeated the words from 
the forty-sixth Psalm. “There is a river, the streams 
whereof shall make glad the city of God,” and immediately 
walked away. Who the man was she did not know, nor did 
she know the result of what she had done, but some time 
after, as she was walking on a street in London, she heard 
footsteps close behind her, and a voice whispered over her 
shoulder. “ ‘There is a river the streams whereof shall make 
glad the city of God,’ and I have found that river.” She 
turned quickly about, but the man had turned also and was 
walking rapidly away. She never knew who it was, but 
she knew by this curious meeting that her use of the words 
of old David’s Psalm had not only saved a man from 
suicide but had led him into the life of the Christian. This 
hymn is Dr. Watts’ version of this Psalm. 

(This incident was related by the lady herself to Dr. 
Paxton, Professor at Princeton, New Jersey, and by him 
related to me.) 


No. 576. 
“JESUS! JESUS! COME AND SAVE US.” 
Henry BATEMAN. 


The author of this hymn was a business man of London, 
diligent enough in business to acquire a fortune, fervent 
enough in spirit to write many a hymn, and “serving the 
Lord” in many an enterprise of philanthropy and religion. 
One day he went into a noonday prayer meeting (Wednes- 
day, September 7, 1862) held in Crosby Hall in London, 
and while there he heard a prayer in which the words were 
frequently repeated, “O Jesus! Jesus! come and help and 
bless.” This prayer suggested to him this hymn. 


588 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 577. 
“THERE CAME TO THE BEACH A POOR EXILE OF ERIN.” 
“THE EXILE OF ERIN.” 


Tuomas CAMPBELL, 1777—1844. 


Thomas Campbell began writing poetry at an early age. 
His “Pleasure of Hope,” which is even now almost a classic, 
was written before he was twenty-two years old, and brought 
its author at once into prominence. He used his first 
earnings to visit Germany, and while there he met Anthony 
McCann and a number of other Irish refugees who had 
been engaged in the Irish Rebellion of 1798, and had become 
exiles from their homes. The forlorn condition of these 
men aroused Campbell’s sympathy and led him to write this 
song, which soon found its way to Ireland and, set to the 
air of an old Irish Melody, “Savourneen Deelish,” has 
become known and loved by almost every native of the 
Green Isle. This visit of the poet, although it lasted only 
a year, gave rise to four songs which have become well 
known the world over. While going from Munich to Luiz, 
he witnessed from the walls of a convent, the bloody battle 
of Hohenlinden, and saw the victorious French Cavalry 
enter the nearest town wiping their bloody swords on their 
horses’ manes. This battle he described in the piece familiar 
to every school boy, beginning “On Linden when the sun 
was low.” Awhile after he visited the battle-field at Ratis- 
bon, and an incident that occurred there led to his writing 
“The Soldier’s Dream,” beginning “Our bugles sang truce, 
for the night cloud had lowered.” 

Before leaving England, Campbell was a frequent visitor 
at a home where the evenings were spent in singing. A 
favorite song with him at these musical gatherings was “Ye 
Gentlemen of England,” and he determined to write words 
for it himself. Little by little he jotted down the lines of 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 589 


a patriotic song, and while in Germany he gave to it its 
finishing touches and named it “Ye mariners of England.” 
His song of sympathy for the Irish Rebels who were exiled 
from home, had already been published in England, and 
when he returned there he was arrested for treason, on 
suspicion that he had not only sympathized with the rebels 
in their exile but in their rebellion. His trunk was searched 
for treasonable letters, but instead of them the manuscript 
of this song, “Ye Mariners of England,” was discovered, and 
its patriotic sentiments proved its author’s loyalty and he 
was set at liberty. 


No. 578. 


“ALONG THE BANKS WHERE BABEL’S CURRENT 
FLOWS”— (Psalm 127). 


JorL Bartow. 


This hymn brings us into contact with one of the most 
versatile geniuses of a century ago. He was a soldier 
in the war of the Revolution, a writer of patriotic songs, 
a preacher, a lawyer, an editor, a bookseller, American 
Consul at Algiers where he concluded a treaty which led 
to the release of many captives, and at last American 
Minister to France. During the Revolutionary War and 
at its close the most popular hymn book in this country 
was “Watts’ Psalms and Hymns” but when the colonies 
separated from the Mother Country, many of these hymns, 
which had been written by Watts with special reference 
to Great Britain, needed to be changed to adapt them to 
the use of an independent people. For example, there is 
a hymn in many of our books beginning: 


“Eternal Wisdom! Thee we praise, 
Thee the creation sings.” 


590 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


As written by Watts, this piece refers to the “British Isles,” 
“Albion,” the “Thames” and the “Severn” and has other 
local allusions. In view of this, the Congregational churches 
of Connecticut, in 1785, engaged Mr. Barlow to make such 
alterations in the hymns of Watts as should adapt them 
to use in Christian churches without regard to their locality. 
This work Mr. Barlow did. This paraphrase of the one 
hundred and twenty-seventh Psalm is not an alteration of 
Watts but the sole work of Mr. Barlow. 


No. 579. 
“QOH! MEAN MAY SEEM THIS HOUSE OF CLAY.” 


Rev. THomas HornsioweEr GILL, 1819. 


The alteration of hymns has been practiced to such an 
extent as to be not only grossly unjust to the authors, but 
an outrage upon common honesty. I have seen hymns 
addressed to Christ, altered by Unitarians so as to be ad- 
dressed to God the Father; and by Romanists, to the Virgin 
Mary; and by Mormons, to Brigham Young. The author 
of this hymn was brought up a strict Unitarian, but was 
a great admirer of Watts’ hymns. He read them as Watts 
wrote them, and many of them again as they had been 
altered to suit the doctrines of the Unitarian Church, and 
was first led to doubt the truth of Unitarianism by noticing 
“the contrast between their native power and beauty, and 
their shrunken and dwindled plight when shorn of their 
inspiring theology by Unitarian mutilations.” He there- 
fore began to study for himself and gradually the fact that 
Christ is divine became clear to him. When he had become 
fully convinced of this, he celebrated his new-found faith 
in this hymn. This fact will give greater significance to 
the allusions to “the Lord” in every stanza and almost 
every line of it. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 591 
No. 680. 
“STAND UP, STAND UP FOR JESUS.” 


Rev. Greorce Durriexp, 1818. 


In the year 1858 a great revival occurred in Philadelphia, 
so remarkable that distinguished from others it is usually 
spoken of as “The Work of God in Philadelphia.” Its 
acknowledged leader was Rev. Dudley A. Tyng. During 
this revival he preached one Sunday in Jayne’s Hall, to 
an audience of five thousand people, from the text (Exodus 
10:11), “Go now, ye that are men, and serve the Lord.” 
It was one of the most successful sermons of modern times, 
for it was thought that at least a thousand persons decided 
at that time to follow the command of the text. That was 
on the sixteenth of April, 1858. The Wednesday. following, 
he went into his barn where a mule was at work on a 
horsepower shelling corn. He patted the animal on the 
neck, his sleeve was caught in the machinery, and his arm 
literally torn out by the roots. He died in a few hours, and 
just before his death sent a message to the men who had 
been his associates in the revival work. “Tell them,” said 
he, “to stand up for Jesus.” 

On the following Sunday Rev. George Duffield preached 
a memorial sermon, taking for his text (Ephesians 6:14), 
“Stand therefore having your loins girt about with truth 
and having on the breastplate of righteousness,” and wrote 
this hymn, not to be sung but ag a poetic embodiment of 
the last words of his dead friend. It soon found its way’ into 
the newspapers and then into the hymn books where it 
has won for itself, wedded to the stirring tune of “Webb,” 
a permanent place. 


592 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 581. 
“Q LORD OUR GOD, WITH EARNEST CARE.” 


This hymn is a literary curiosity. Its five stanzas are 
made up of translations of as many stanzas clipped out of 
four different Latin hymns, written by three different 
authors, in three different centuries and in at least two 
different countries. The originals of the first and fourth 
stanzas are by Gregory the Great, Pope of Rome in the 
sixth century. The second and third by Hilary, who lived 
in Gaul in the fourth century, and the fifth by some unknown 
author who lived in the seventh century. The translations 
are also by different hands, the first four stanzas being 
the work of Rev. John Mason Neale, and the fifth that of 
some unknown translator. 


No. 682. 
“JESUS AT THY COMMAND”—1774. 
“O’ER THOSE GLOOMY HILLS OF DARKNESS”—1772. 


Rev. WinuiAM WILLIAMS, 1717—1791. 


The history of missions contains no more wonderful 
story than that of work in the Islands of the Pacific. It 
was the first mission undertaken by the London Missionary 
Society, a society whose relation to missionary effort in 
Great Britain is about the same as that of the American 
Board in this country. Its first band of missionaries sailed 
from London August 10, 1796. Early in the morning of 
that day their vessel swung out into the river Thames, 
bearing at the masthead a flag the like of which had 
never before floated on the breeze. It was purple, with 
three white doves bearing olive branches in their bills. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 593 


The shore was crowded with friends who waved to them 
tearful farewells, for they expected never to see them again 
until they should meet them in heaven. As the ship moved 
slowly down the river the company gathered on her deck 
sang the hymn: 


“Jesus at thy command 
We launch into the deep.” 


After a voyage of more than half a year the same com- 
pany gathered on the ship’s deck saw a long low range of 
hills outlined dimly along the horizon. It was the Island 
of Tahiti, to whose inhabitants they had come to tell the 
gospel message. Soon the canoes of the Islanders were 
dancing in the waves about the ship, and the natives heard 
for the first time the music of Christian song as the 
mission band sang the hymn: 


O’er those gloomy hills of darkness 
Look my soul, be still and gaze, 
All the promises do travel 
On a glorious day of grace. 
Blessed Jubilee 
Let thy glorious morning dawn.” 


These two hymns thus mark the beginning of a mission 
enterprise which has spread over all the Islands of the South 
Pacific Ocean, with a history unparalleled in the annals 
of mission work. 


No: 583. 
“LEOMINSTER” (Tune). 


GEorGE WILLIAM Martin, 1828—1881. 


This tune, associated with Dr. Bonar’s hymn, “A few 
more years shall roll,” is usually credited to Sir Arthur 


594 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


S. Sullivan, who harmonized it, but the melody was com- 
posed by George William Martin, of whom this incident 
is told: Prince Albert, husband of Queen Victoria, had 
composed a piece of music, and sent a request to Sir 
George S. Smart, a noted chorister, to come to Bucking- 
ham Palace with a few choir boys to perform it. Young 
Martin was one of the boys who went. When they reached 
the presence of His Royal Highness, he handed a copy 
of his music to Martin with the question, “Can you sing 
that at sight?” 

“Yes, sir,” came the quick reply, and he did it quite to 
the Prince’s satisfaction. 

There seems nothing in this incident to us in democratic 
America worth relating, but things are different in England, 
and the musical party had no sooner gotten outside the 
palace gate than young Martin got a tremendous whack 
on the ear from their leader for using so common a title 
as “Sir” in addressing the husband of the Queen. 


No. 584. 
“AUSTRIA” (Tune). 


Franz Jos—EpH Haypn, 1732—1809. 


This piece was composed for the words of a national 
hymn, and was first performed in public on the birthday 
of the Emperor of Austria, February 12, 1797. Mendelsohn 
once made use of it in a manner which added to its 
popularity, as well as to the wonder with which the 
people regarded him. He was in London in 1842 and 
went one summer Sunday evening to St. Peter’s Church. 
As he entered the congregation were singing this tune. 
Mendelssohn was asked to play the voluntary at the close 
of the service, and took this tune which the people had 
just sung, for his theme, and for a full half hour improvised 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 595 


variations of it, never repeating himself, until it seemed 
as if every possible use had been made of it. And yet a 
few evenings later at another Church, when asked to take 
the same theme, he played an entirely different arrangement 
of it, with new and wonderful changes and all improvised 
as he played. 


No. 585. 
“EVAN” (Tune). 


Rev. Witu1AM Henry HAVERGAL. 
Dr. LowEtL Mason. 


Very little is known of the circumstances under which 
most of our music was written. This tune, however, is 
an exception. Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, once visited 
the house of Dr. Laurie, and when he left there was found 
on a table in the room he had occupied a little poem of 
six stanzas. It was the poet’s prayer for each member of 
the family whose hospitality he had enjoyed. Half a 
century later Rev. William Henry Havergal, a minister 
of the Church of England, composed music for this poem. 
A copy of his song crossed the ocean and fell into the 
hands of Dr. Lowell Mason, who was much pleased with 
it. He selected from it four strains and arranged them into 
a hymn tune; so that while in our books of church song the 
tune to which Dr. Mason gave the name “Evan” is credited 
to Mr. Havergal, to Dr. Mason belongs the credit of fitting 
it for our use in religious worship. 


No. 586. 
“HASTINGS” (Tune). 


Dr. Tuomas Hastines, 1784—1872. 


Composed by Dr. Thomas Hastings for words of his 
own writing; but though he acknowledged the hymn to be his 


596 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


he signed the tune with a fictitious name “K.—L.—F. — 
F.—.” The reason for this he gives as follows: ‘I had found 
that a foreigner’s name went a great way, and that very 
ordinary tunes would be sung if Palestrina, or Pucitta, 
etc., were over them, while a better tune by Hastings would 
go unnoticed.” This seems to indicate that the admiration 
of the present generation for imported goods comes to 
them naturally by inheritance. 


No. 887. 
“GANGES” (Tune). 


This tune was composed not far from the time when 
Occum’s hymn ws written. Its author lived in or near 
Troy, New York, but who or what he was is quite unknown. 
It is not impossible that the tune was written for the words 
of Occum as it is found in books published early in the 
century under the name of “Indian Philosopher,” and 
accompanied by Occum’s hymn, “Awaked by Sinai’s awful 
sound.” 


No. 588. 
“PAX TECUM” (Tune.)—1878, 


Rev. G. T. Caldbeck was for many years a missionary in 
China. While there he became greatly impressed by the 
beauty of the hymn written by Rev. E. H. Bickersteth 
beginning: 

“Peace, perfect peace.” 


and although unskilful in music, he wrote for it a tune and 
sent it in manuscript to England, to the author of the 
hymn. It was there corrected a little and soon after 
published. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 597 
No. 589. 
“SHIRLAND” (Tune). 


SAMUEL STANLEY, 1767—1822. 


About a hundred years ago a little congregation of wor- 
shippers met in what was known as Carr’s Lane Meeting 
House, Birmingham, England. After a little the singing in 
that church began to attract attention, and the congregation 
increased. In a few years more the singing had become 
famous, and it was no unusual thing for members of other 
congregations not far distant to slip out of their own 
churches as soon as the sermon was over, and run to Carr’s 
Lane Meeting House to listen to the closing hymn. Samuel 
Stanley, the composer of this tune, was-the leader of the 
singing at this church, and it was his skill as a leader, as 
well as his ability as a musician that made the music 
there so famous. 


No. 590. 
“SELMA” (Tune). 


Ropert ARCHIBALD SMITH, 1780—1829. 


A hundred years ago, a silk weaver’s boy in the town 
of Reading, England, was the wonder of the town for his 
skill in playing on such a rustic whistle as all boys know 
how to make. When a little older the whistle gave place 
to the flute and this again to the violin. Musical talent 
was not highly appreciated by his father, who tried his 
best to teach him what he thought the far higher art of 
weaving at a loom. His success was poor, and often when 
he came to see what progress he was making with his weav- 
ing, he would catch him scratching musical notes with a 


598 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


pin on the frame work of the loom. The boy became a 
skilful musician, leader of a famous choir in Edinburgh, 
composed a great deal of church music, this tune among 
others, and many well-known secular songs. 


No. 591. 
“YORK” (Tune). 


There is no land on the face of the earth in which the 
singing of hymns has borne so prominent a part in its 
history as in-Scotland. They did not call them hymns but 
Psalms, for the words were paraphrases and usually awk- 
ward and uncouth ones, too, of the Psalms of David. The 
people sang them in their kirks, in their homes, as they 
worked in the fields, or walked on the roads. They en- 
couraged each other with them when they went into battle, 
and voiced in them at its close their victory or defeat. 
They sang Psalms when hunted through forests and swamps, 
and caves, and when about to suffer martyrdom for their 
faith. A few of the old tunes they used have come down 
to us, and they should be retained in service if only to 
remind us of the wonderful history interwoven with them 
through more than three centuries. “York” is one of 
them, and it is supposed to have been put into its 
present form by John Milton, father of the poet who wrote 
“Paradise Lost.” It has been a very popular tune in 
England, and it is said that within the memory of people 
now living it was used as a lullaby song by half the nurses 
of England, and the chimes of many country churches 
played it six or eight times over every twenty-four hours. 
The tune was intended to be sung fast. In the days when 
tunes were scarce, it has been known for “York” to be 
sung fifteen times in one week in the same church. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 599 
No. 592. 
Henry J. GAUNTLETT, 1806—1876. 


The little church at Olney, England, is an important 
spot to lovers of sacred song. It was here that John Newton 
ministered and with William Cowper wrote the hymns 
which have endeared them both to Christian people all over 
the world. After Newton there came a minister named 
Gauntlett, who was a good musician, but he had a little 
boy who was a better one; so much better that at nine years 
of age he was appointed the organist of his father’s church. 
Later he went to London and became one of the leaders 
if not the pioneer in a movement that has effected a com- 
plete revolution in the music of the church. Turn to the 
index of composers in any hymnal published within the 
last ten years and compare it with the similar index in 
earlier books, and a new set of music writers will be seen 
to have come to the front. Barnby, Dykes, Hopkins, Monk, 
and Sir Arthur Sullivan will be found furnishing more tunes 
than almost all others put together. And Mr. Henry J. 
Gauntlett, the son of the Olney minister, opened the way 
for them all. The church music of today owes much to him. 


No. 593. 
“AVON” (Tune). 


Hucu Wiison, 1764—1824. 


It is said that no tune book of any importance has been 
published in Great Britain for the last sixty years that 
does not contain this tune. And almost the same thing 
can be said of books published in this country. It was 
composed by a Scotch shoemaker, but it required a lawsuit 
to find it out. Editors were in the habit of assigning it 


600 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


to almost any one, apparently, whom their fancy suggested, 
but at last a Glasgow publisher, who actually owned the 
copyright, brought suit against someone who had published 
the tune without permission, and it was proven that Hugh 
Wilson, a poor shoemaker, had composed it. He employed 
his spare time in study, made sundials for those who 
wanted them, led the Psalm singing in the village Kirk, 
started the first Sunday school in the town where he lived, 
and in all ways made his life as useful as he could. He 
composed a great many tunes, but when he was dying he 
caused the manuscript copies to be destroyed, only three 
or four escaping. He named this tune “Fenwick” after 
the town where he was born, but in Great Britain it is 
now known as “Martyrdom.” 


No. 594. 


“THOU HOLY SPIRIT, WE PRAY TO THEE.”—Coverpate. 

“NOW PRAY WE ALL GOD THE COMFORTER.”—A. T. 
RUSSELL. 

“NOW ON THE HOLY GHOST WE CALL, FOR PER. 
FECT——-—Fry. 

“TO. THEE THOU HOLY SPIRIT NOW.”—Fry. 

“HOLY SPIRIT! GRANT US OUR DESIRE.”—J. Anperson. 

“OH! HOLY GHOST TO THEE WE PRAY.”—Dr. J. Hunr. 

“NOW CRAVE WE OF THE HOLY GHOST.”—R. Masstr. 


“NOW PRAY WE TO THE HOLY GHOST.”—Grorce 
MacDona.p. 


“NOW ON THE HOLY GHOST WE CALIF. 0. Gib 
J. D. Burns. 


The above are all translations of the German: 
“NUN BITTEN WIR DEN HEILIGEN GEIST.” 


“IN PEACE AND JOY I NOW DEPART, ACCORDING—’— 
C. WINKWworTH. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 601 


“WITH PEACE AND JOY FROM EARTH I GO.”—Miss Fry. 

“GOD’S WILL BE DONE! WITH JOY. OF HEART.”-J. 
ANDERSON. 

“GLADLY FROM EARTH AND TIME I CEASE.”—Dr. J. 
Hunt. 

“THY WILL BE DONE! WITH JOYFUL HEART,’ J: 
ANDERSON. 

PIN = PEACE AND JOY 1 NOW DEPART, IT IS— =k: 

MAssIE. 

“IN PEACE AND JOY AWAY I GO.”—GeEo. MacDonaxp. 

“IN PEACE AND JOY I NOW DEPART, AS—’—GeorcE 

MacDona.p. q 

“IN JOY AND PEACE I ONWARD FARE.”—N. L. Frotu- 

INGHAM. 





The above are all translations of the German by Martin 
Luther: 


“MIT FRIED UND FREUD ICH FAHR DAHIN.” 


Not long after the hymn of Martin Luther was written 
beginning: 


“Mit Fried und Freud ich fahr dahin,” 


a party of nearly a hundred fishermen were engaged in 
their work on the ice between Copenhagen and an Island 
in the Sound that runs between Denmark and Sweden, when 
suddenly the ice gave way and began running out with 
the current. They were soon separated from each other 
and about thirty of the party were drowned. While they 
were still near together, one of them who had been religiously 
trained called to the others, “Dear brethren, let us not fall 
into despair because we shall lose our lives! but let us 
prove by our conduct that we have been hearers of God’s 
word.” And then they all joined in singing together these 


602 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


hymns; the first a prayer to the Holy Spirit for faith 
and strength, and the second a metrical version of the 
Song of Simeon, 


“Now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” 


No. 596. 
“HOLY SPIRIT, ONCE AGAIN.”—Miss C. Winkworth. 


“COME, O COME, THOU QUICKENING SPIRIT, THOU—” 
—CHARLES W. SCHAEFFER. 


“COME, THOU SPIRIT EVER LIVING.”—R. Masstr. 
The above are all translations from the German: 


“KOMM, O KOMM, DU GEIST DES LEBENS.”—Hetnricu 
HELp. 


In some cities of this country where the German element 
was strong, the watchmen, as they went about the streets 
at night, were accustomed in early times to call the hour 
of the night and to add something of the condition of affairs 
for the information of the wakeful citizens. “Twelve o'clock 
and all’s well;” “one o’clock and a starlight night.” This 
custom came from the Fatherland, where the watchman 
often added to his hourly announcement a stanza from 
some hymn or song. 

The story is related by Kubler that in a town in Northern 
Germany a very poor woman, who with her two children 
had had nothing to eat for four days, was driven to despair 
and in the night she resolved to murder her children. She 
was just taking up the youngest, with a knife in her hand, 
when the watchman, who at that moment passed under 
her low window, and saw through a hole in the shutter 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 603 


what she was intending, suddenly knocked and entered the 
room. He inquired about her trouble, gave her a little 
money, and promised to bring her help. And then he went 
out to his beat and as he called the hours through the 
streets of the city he sang a stanza of his hymn: 


“And when e’er a yearning strong 
Presses out the bitter cry 

‘Ah my God, how long, how long?’ 
Then O let me find Thee nigh, 

And thy words of healing balm 

Bring me courage, patience, calm.” 


No. 596. 


“AGAIN THE CIRCLING SEASONS TELL.”—W. J. Copr- 
LAND. 


“HAIL THE JOYFUL DAY’S RETURN.”—R. CAMPBELL. 


“BLEST JOYS FROM MIGHTY WONDERS WROUGHT.”’— 
J. M. NEALE. 


“ROUND ROLL THE WEEKS OUR HEARTS TO GREET.” 
—wW. J. BLew. 


“JOY! BECAUSE THE CIRCLING YEAR.”—J. ELLerTon 
and F. J. A. Horr. 


“AGAIN THE SLOWLY CIRCLING YEAR.”—E. CaswELt. 


“BLEST SEASON! WHICH WITH GLADNESS FRAUGHT.” 
—J. D. CHAMBERS. 


These are translations of the Latin hymn “Beata nobis 
gaudia.” Hilary of Poitiers, 305—367. 


604 STORIES OF THE GREAT. 


About the year 305 there was born in France—it was 
not called France then, but Gaul—a boy who later became 
one of the greatest men of the age. His parents were idol- 
aters and he was brought up a heathen. He was well 
educated and in his studies he came across a copy of the 
Bible which, out of curiosity, he began to read. He himself 
tells the story how step-by step his reading brought him 
out of heathenism into Christian faith. 

“When I found,” he says, “in Exodus, how God was called 
‘IT am that I am,’ and when I read in Isaiah (40:12) of a 
Deity who ‘held the wind in His fists,’ and again (66:1) of 
Him who said, ‘Heaven is my throne and earth is my foot- 
stool,’ then this surpasssed all my heathen conceptions of 
grandeur and power. And when I read (Psalms, 138:7) how 
this great God loved and cared for His children, so that we 
could say, ‘though I walk in the midst of trouble, Thou wilt 
revive me,’ ‘Thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the 
wrath of mine enemies, and Thy right hand shall save me, 
then was I drawn towards this Mighty Being by a sentiment 
of confidence and trust.” 

And then he found the gospel of John—it was a new book 
then—and its opening sentences that told of the Word, 
“which was with God and which was God,” made the whole 
system of Christian theology clear to him and he became a 
Christian. The Arian heresy, which dethroned the Christ 
for whose sake he had turned from the idolatry of his ances- 
tors, soon spread over the land, and against it he fought 
with tongue and pen; and when by and by its priests out- 
numbered those who stood with him, he was banished from 
the land. He had a wife and daughter at home, and there 
is still to be found a letter which Abra, Hilary’s daughter, 
wrote him while he was in exile; but more important than 
Abra’s letter to her father, is Hilary’s answer to his 
daughter. In it he tells her to keep her soul and her conduct 
pure; and after much counsel he ends by enclosing two 
hymns which she may use in the worship of God, one in the 
morning, and the other in the evening. The evening hymn 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 605 


is lost, but the morning hymn still exists, beginning in the 
Latin, ‘Lucis largitor splendide’— 


“Thou Splendid Giver of the light.” 


This is the oldest Latin hymn, and Hilary is the oldest 
Latin hymn writer, and Abra, his daughter, was the first 
singer of these new hymns which have in later years 
enriched our hymnody. 


No. 597. 
“EWING” (Tune). 


ALEXANDER EwIne, 1830. 


Just as some of our sweetest hymns have come from 
authors whose only claim to literary fame rests on a single 
hymn, so some of our sweetest tunes come from composers 
who are not professional musicians. The composer of this 
tune is a paymaster in the English Army, with the rank of 
Lieutenant-Colonel, and wears a medal gained by service 
in the war between England and China in 1860. It was 
composed for the words of Bernard’s hymn beginning: 


“For thee, O dear, dear Country,” ~ 


but is usually used for another part of the same hymn 
beginning, “Jerusalem, the Golden.” Hymn tinkers alter 
nearly all our hymns and tune menders play all sorts of 
pranks with our music. While Colonel Ewing was absent 
in China, they got hold of his tune and, without so much as 
saying “by your leave, sir,” they changed the time to suit 
themselves and published it. Speaking of this he says, “In 
my opinion the alteration of the rhythm has very much vul- 
garized my little tune. It now seems to me a good deal like 
a polka. I hate to hear it.” 


606 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 598. 
“O’ER THOSE GLOOMY HILLS OF DARKNESS.” 


Rev. Witu1AM WILuiAMs, 1717—1791. 


The author of this hymn spent fifty years in traveling 
throughout the length and breadth of his native land preach- 
ing the gospel. On one occasion he stopped over night in 
a little Welsh village, and next morning, arising before the 
sun, he saw a long low range of hills lying dark under the 
mists, but behind them in the eastern sky, the rays of the 
morning were beginning to give promise of approaching day. 
The imagery of this morning scene among the hills he 
transferred to this missionary hymn. 


No. 599. 
“BETHANY” (Tune). 


This tune, to which the name of Dr. Lowell Mason is 
given as composer, brings into curious contact old times 
and new, things sacred and things secular. Dr. Mason set 
the tune to the hymn beginning, “Nearer, my God, to Thee,”’ 
and its fitness for these words has kept the two together in 
all our hymnals. But the tune is only an adaptation of an 
old song. Nearly a hundred years ago, a young Irish poet, 
of rollicking disposition and habits, began the issue of a 
series of songs, set to the ancient music of Ireland. These 
melodies were arranged for him by Sir John Stevenson, an 
Trish violinist. They became immensely popular, and Tom 
Moore’s “Trish Melodies” were heard at the theaters, con- 
cert rooms, on the streets, and in the homes of the people. 
Among these was one, still a favorite everywhere. It began 
with the words: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 607 


“Oft in the stilly night, 

Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, 
Fond memory brings the light 

Of other days around me.” 


The notes of the first line of this song are the same as those 
of the first line of “Bethany,” which is based all the way 
through on the old Irish song. 


No. 600. 
“HERALD ANGELS” (Tune). 


This tune is a fragment taken from a musical composi- 
tion of Mendelssohn, entitled the “Festgesang,” written to 
celebrate the fourth centenary of the invention of print- 
ing and first performed at Leipzig, June 23, 1840. The 
German words sung to the first line were “Gutenberg der 
grosse Mann.” 


No. 601. 
Grorck Frepertck HANpbEL, 1685—1759. 


Just two hundred years ago, a German doctor started in 
his carriage to visit one of the German dukes. He had a 
little boy who was very fond of music, but who had been 
forbidden by his father to play or sing, as he considered 
music only an amusement and not a profession. The boy, 
knowing that at the old castle where his father was going, 
there were music rooms and musical instruments, made up 
his mind to accompany him, if possible, on this trip, and 
when the carriage had gone a little way along the road, the 
boy was found running behind it as fast as his little legs 
would carry him. He was picked up, and promising good 
behavior was taken along. Arriving at the castle, he was 


608 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


left pretty much to himself, and soon found his way to the 
chapel and the organ. In spite of parental commands he 
had already learned to play by stealth, and the Sunday 
afternoon after the chapel service was over and he supposed 
everybody had left the room, he mounted the organ stool 
and began to play. The duke himself, however, had re- 
mained behind and heard with astonishment the playing of 
the six-year-old child. His influence induced the father to 
consent that his boy should have a. musical education. This 
was the beginning of the musical career of George Frederick 
Handel, the composer of the “Oratorio of The Messiah,” 
and who has been called the “Monarch of Composers.” 
Most of the tunes of Handel now to be found in our hymnals 
are extracts from oratorios or operas he wrote. Thus the 
tune “Samson” comes from the oratorio of that name. It is 
the chorus beginning: 


“Then round about the starry throne” (1742). 
“Solomon” is from a solo beginning: 
“What though I trace,” 
in the oratorio of “Solomon” (1748). 
“Theodora” is from the solo in the oratorio of that name 
beginning: 
“Angels ever bright and fair” (1749). 


“Saul” is from the “Dead March” in the oratorio of that 
name (1738). 


“Mamre” is from the solo: 
“Shall I on Mamre’s fertile plain,” 
in the oratorio of “Joshua” (1747). 


“David” is adapted from an opera entitled “Sosarme” 
(1732) ; 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 609 
“Georgia” is an adaptation of a song beginning: 
“See the conquering hero.” 
“Saxony” is from a song in an opera entitled “Siroe” 
(1728). 

“Goss” is from a duet beginning, “Cease thy anguish,” in 
the Oratorio “Athalia” (1733). 

There are, however, three tunes composed by Handel for 
as many of Charles Wesley’s hymns. The celebrated come- 
dian Rich was proprietor of Covent Garden Theater in 
London when Handel’s: oratorios were performed there. 
Mr. Rich’s wife had been converted at a Methodist meeting 
and had made the acquaintance of Mr. Wesley. At her 
request Handel wrote a tune named “Gospel” for Mr. 
Wesley’s hymn beginning: 


“Rejoice the Lord is King;” 


) 


one entitled “Cannons” or ‘‘Chandos” for the hymn, 


“Sinners obey the gospel call’; 


and one named ‘“‘Kedron”’ for the words, 


“OQ Love Divine, how sweet thou art.” 


No. 602. 


LoweLtt Mason, 1792—1872. 


About the year 1820, a young man from Massachusetts 
became clerk in a bank in Savannah, Georgia. His aptitude 
for music had made him the !eader of the choir in his native 
town, and in Savannah he soon became the conductor of 
the choir of the leading Presbyterian church of the city. 
The collections of church music of the day were not satis- 
factory to him, and to satisfy his own desire for something 


610 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


better he began collecting tunes himself. When he had 
enough for a book, he obtained leave of absence from his 
work, and came north to Philadelphia to get it published. 
He was not working for money, and he offered the copy- 
right of his collection to the publishers of that city, asking 
no compensation but a few copies of the book for his own 
use. But even at this price he could find no one willing to 
undertake its publication. He made the same proposal to 
Boston publishers but with no better success, and was about ~ 
to return to Savannah, unsuccessful and discouraged, when a 
musical gentleman in Boston, whom he casually met, asked 
to see his collection. He was much pleased with it, showed it 
to the Handel and Haydn Society, then the foremost musi- 
cal society in Boston, and this society published the book, 
giving its compiler an interest in the profits. The book 
became immensely popular and quickly ran through seven- 
teen editions. The young man was Lowell Mason, and this 
event decided the course of his life. He gave up his posi- 
tion at Savannah and became the organist at Dr. Lyman 
Beecher’s Church in Boston, and from that time until the 
end of his life was identified with the church music of the 
country. Together with Dr. Thomas Hastings, he may be 
said to have revolutionized the sacred music of the land. 
He delivered lectures, conducted conventions, taught classes, 
composed tunes, stimulated others to similar work, and in 
all possible ways sought to arouse the interest of the people 
in better music for their church services. And even now, 
after so many others have arisen both in this country and 
England as composers of sacred music, his name stands 
most prominent in nearly every hymnal of the church. 


No. 603. 


FELICE DE GIARDINI, 1716-1796. 


In 1750, an Italian violinist made his first appearance in 
London, and by his superb playing created a great sensa- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 611 


tion. He remained in England more than thirty years, and 
although he was erratic, selfish, and unpleasant, he main- 
tained his popularity among the people by his great skill 
upon the violin. While there the Countess of Huntingdon, 
who had become deeply interested in the Methodist Move- 
ment and was devoting her wealth to the establishing of 
churches and employment of preachers, used her influence 
upon the great violinist to get him to compose a few pieces 
of sacred music for use in the Methodist churches. The 
tune named “Athens” was one of these. Late in life he 
started a comic opera in London which failed. He was in 
no sense a religious man. 


No. 604. 


JEAN Baptiste FAurg, 1830. 


Half a century ago or more, a boy was found drawing 
crowds about him on the streets of Paris by the marvelous 
voice with which he sang. Friends were found for him and 
he received a musical education, while his voice grew purer 
and finer as it became more cultivated. Everyone was 
prophesying a brilliant future for him, when suddenly he 
lost his voice, and after waiting months hoping for it to 
return, he turned to the study. of instrumental music. 
Awhile after, thinking of the voice he had lost, he bethought 
himself of prayer, and prayed “give me back my voice and 
I will use it for charity and for good.” His voice gradually 
returned and he became the great church singer of Paris, 
and wrote an ode to charity which has become celebrated. 
“Palm Branches” is the work of his genius, 


No. 605. 


Rev. Joun Fawcett, 1739—1817. 


When twenty-five years old, John Fawcett became the 
pastor of a little Baptist church among the mountains of 


612 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Yorkshire, England. His salary was twenty-five pounds a 
year, equivalent to about one hundred and twenty dollars 
of our money. Eight years later he accepted a call to a 
prominent London church, and made his preparations to go, 
but when the leave-taking came, his people gathered about 
him with so much sorrow at the parting, and such evident 
affection for him, that he put his goods, which were already 
loaded upon wagons, back into the house, and sent word to 
the London church that he could not come. It was a fortu- 
nate thing for the song service of the church, for he put the 
experience he had just passed through into that hymn, 
which has become so precious: 


“Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love.” 


The sequel is that he remained pastor of that little church 
for more than fifty years, until a stroke of paralysis ended 
his ministry and his life. How he managed to support a 
wife and family upon so meager a salary is partly explained 
by a notice printed on the flyleaf of a hymn book which he 
compiled, and which read as follows: 

“At Brearly Hall, in Midgely, near Halifax, a pleasant 
and healthy situation. Youths are genteely boarded and 
trained up.in useful learning, with great tenderness, fidelity, 
and care, and upon reasonable terms.” 


No. 606. 
“JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW.” 


Miss Anna B. Warner, 1822. 


In 1880, Miss Warner published a novel entitled, “Say and 
Seal.” One of the heroes of the book is a little motherless 
boy named Johnny Fax, who learns the story of the love 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 613 


of Jesus from his day school teacher, Mr. Linden, and his 
Sunday-school teacher, Faith, Derrick. Johnny is taken 
sick, and these two teachers become his nurses. The little 
boy is never so happy as when he is nestling in Mr. Linden’s 
arms, and forgets his suffering and falls alseep, while he 
tells him Bible stories or sings to him some children’s hymns. 
The day on which the little boy died, he was very restless, 
and had asked Mr. Linden to “walk,” and so wrapped in his 
teacher’s arms he was being carried back and forth across 
the room. The motion soothed his restlessness and soon he 
said, “Sing,” and so Mr. Linden, as he walked with the 
little dying boy, sang to him softly, the words of this hymn: 


“Jesus loves me this I know 

For the Bible tells me so. 

Little ones to Him belong, 

They are weak but He is strong.” 


The author of the hymn in writing about it says that, 
“for the time Johnny Fax was so intensely real, so vividly 
in my heart, that the hymn was written for him, as if he 
had been a living child.” 


No. 607. 
FreLtix MENDELSSOHN-BaArRTHOLDY, 1809—1847. 


One evening a friend entered a room where a young man 
was seated apparently buried in thought with an open Bible 
before him. He started up as he saw his visitor and his face 
was gleaming with light. 

“Tisten,”’ said he, and then he read from the book before 
him, that passage from the First Book of Kings: “And 
behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind 
rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks, before 
the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind, and after the 
wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earth- 


614 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


quake, and after the earthquake, a fire; but the Lord was 
not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” 
{I Kings, 19:11, 12.) This was Felix Mendelssohn, and he 
read the words which had inspired him to write that won- 
derful Oratorio of “Elijah.” Nine years of labor did the 
musician put into that composition, and then on August 
26, 1846, he led in its first performance at the annual musi- 
cal festival at Birmingham, England. A great audience 
gathered from all over England greeted his appearance, and 
remained spellbound as the musical drama proceeded, and 
when at the close the composer moved away from his place 
on the stage, cheer upon cheer greeted his ears from every 
side. It was for him a moment of splendid triumph, but a 
triumph that cost him his life, for even while he was receiv- 
ing the congratulations of kings and princes, upon the great 
work he had composed, he became weak from exhaustion. 

“Play, play,” said a friend to him just afterward. 

“T cannot play,” was the reply, “I have no strength,” and 
within a year he had died. 


No. 608. 
Rev. SAMUEL DunN. 


A gentleman once invited another to go with him to an 
outdoor religious service. He said, describing it, that when 
they entered the town he found himself marched in a proces- 
sion with a lot of praying and singing men, to a position just 
in front of a booth occupied by a company of wandering 
actors, where he soon discovered that it would be almost 
impossible for him to preserve his gravity. He saw directly 
before him the clown of the company, grinning by the side 
of a huge, black dog standing on its hind legs with clerical 
bands around its neck and one of the tracts issued by the 
man, at whose invitation he had gone, dangling from his 
paw. But while he was finding it so hard to repress a smile, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH ~ 615 


not a muscle of his leader’s face was moved. He was there 
with an important, message, which he intended to deliver. 
With a clear voice he gave out a hymn, and his men sang 
with all their voices, and they had need to, for the actors’ 
band struck up and the clown began to caper. When the 
singing was ended, several men prayed, and then he himself 
was called upon to speak, but failed to be heard above the 
din from the stage. Then the leader tried, and when he 
failed he stood silent holding up one after another, large 
placards, with scripture sentences printed on them. At last 
the players tried throwing fireworks among the people on the 
preachers’ stand, and a party of rough miners, who up to 
this point had Sniuyed the fun, decided that this was not 
fair play, and made a grand onset on the players’ band and 
drove them all from the scene, and then the leader secured 
a quiet crowd and gave to them an earnest gospel sermon. 
Such a man must certainly have been earnest and such a 
man must certainly have been brave. It was Samuel Dunn. 


No. 609. 
“WEBB” (Tune). 


Grorce JAMES Wess, 1803—1887. 


This tune, which is associated in all minds with the 
missionary hymn, beginning: 


“The morning light is breaking,” 


was written on the ocean in 1830, as a pein song. It 
was first published with the words: 


“Tis dawn, the lark is singing.” 


For forty years Webb was organist of the Old South Church, 
Boston, and was a Swedenborgian in religion. 


616 * STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 610. 
“EVENTIDE” (Tune). 


This tune first appears in “Hymns Ancient and Modern.” 
The general charge of this book was in the hands of Sir 
Henry Baker, while Dr. Monk had charge of the musical 
matter. One evening they were going out together, when 
they suddenly remembered that there was no tune provided 
for Lyte’s hymn “Abide with Me,” and on the spur of the 
moment Dr. Monk sat down and wrote. it, inside of ten 
minutes, although one of his assistants sat at a piano within 
six feet of him, playing a Fantasia by Thalberg. 


No. 611. 
“KILMARNOCK” (Tune). 


Nert Doveuas, 1776—1862. 


In the same year when our independence as a nation was 
declared, a boy was born at Greenock, a little seaport town 
of Scotland. The boy was fond of boats and of the sea, and 
so he naturally became a sailor. When eighteen years of 
age, he was sailing on a privateer engaged in the war be- 
tween England and France, and their ship was lying at the 
port where he was born, when news came of Lord Howe’s 
great victory over the French fleet. His vessel with others 
was ordered to fire a salute. Neil was helping to handle a 
cannon when, by a premature discharge, his right arm was 
torn off, his right cheek carried away, and his eyesight 
destroyed. The boy had always been a favorite, and friends 
eathered round him after this calamity and helped in every 
possible way to make his life cheerful. At their suggestion 
he learned to sing, and progressed so rapidly that he was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 617 


soon teaching music himself, and this he kept on doing with 
great success until old age compelled him to give it up. 
He composed a hundred and fifty pieces of sacred music, 
and a few secular songs. 


No. 612. 
“ST. MATTHEW” (Tune). 


Composed by William Croft, an English organist. We 
often hear of persons being affected to tears by the reading 
of some hymn which stirs their emotions. This tune 
affords an instance of the same result following the per- 
formance of a piece of music. At a great musical festival 
at York, England, in 1823, the celebrated singer Catalini 
heard this tune sung and was so affected by it that she 
could with the greatest difficulty regain her composure 
enough to sing the song: 


“Angels ever bright and fair,” 
which she was expected to do at the close of the singing 
of this piece. 
No. 618. 
“HYMNS ANCIENT AND MODERN.” 


Rev. Sir Henry WituiaMs Baker, 1821—1877. 
Dr. Wiuut1am Henry Monk, 1823—1889. 


Without doubt the most remarkable hymnal ever com- 
piled is the English book entitled, ““Hymns Ancient and 
Modern.” It was first published in 1861 and its immense 
popularity can be imagined from the fact that in the twenty- 
eight years following over twenty-seven millions of copies 
were sold. The literary work was done by a syndicate of 


618 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


about forty clergymen all connected with the Church of 
England, with Rev. Sir Henry Williams Baker as their 
leader. Upon him fell the larger share of the work, but it 
was not any superiority in the hymns selected that gave to 
the book its popularity, so much as the peculiar beauty and 
fitness of its tunes. The musical editor was Dr. William 
Henry Monk. Some of the music he composed himself and 
he was wonderfully successful in obtaining the aid of the 
best living composers of church music. He was an enthu- 
siast in his profession. Tunes came to him at all sorts of 
times and in all sorts of places. The tune named “Aber,” 
which he composed for the words “O perfect life of love,” 
came to him in the night, and he got out of bed to note it 
down. The tune “Advent,” sometimes named ‘“Beverly,” 
written for the words “Thou art coming, O my Savior,” 
was composed on a railway train. “Baster Hymn” was 
written in competition for a prize of five: guineas, which 
had been offered by an English Musical Society for the 
best music for the words: 


“Jesus Christ is risen today.” 


and which was awarded to this tune. “Eventide,” written 
for the words: 


“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,” 


was undertaken on the spur of the moment and completed 
within ten minutes, while one of Thalberg’s Fantasias was 
being played on a piano only a few feet distant from where 
the composer sat. But it was Monk’s music and his skill 
in selecting music which gave to the hymn book named its 
phenomenal success. So that it has been pithily said con- 
cerning it that while “in a dozen years from the date of its 
publication not twenty of its original hymns were sung as 
written, in the churches, not twenty of its tunes were 
unsung in the same churches.” 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 619 
No. 614. 
“THE CREATION” (Oratorio). 


When Francis Joseph Haydn was old and feeble, in 1809, 
the people of Vienna desired to do him honor, and so 
arranged for a performance of this oratorio with all possible 
arrangement for effective performance. Haydn had to be 
carried to the theater. When the music reached the place 
where occurs the words, “Let there be light,’’ Haydn arose, 
and pointing toward heaven said, “It comes from thence,” 
and then the people remembered that Haydn had done his 
work under the influence and help of prayer, and knew that 
he felt that he had been inspired from heaven. 


No. 618. 


“ST. ALPHEGE” (Tune). 


Dr. Henry J. GAUNTLETT. 


While the composer was at dinner one evening, a mes- 
senger came from the church to tell him that the prayer 
tune for a hymn they were to sing that evening, beginning: 


“The hymn of glory sing we,” 


was mislaid, and asking what should be done. “Give me 
some paper,” said Dr. Gauntlett, and in a few minutes this 
tune was written and sent back by the messenger. 


No. 616. 


Rev. JouHN Baccnus Dykes, 1823—1876. 


Many of the tunes which have become standards among 
us, are regular, and solid in their composition, and are 


620 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


applicable to the words of almost any of the old meters in 
which they are written. To compose a tune that in addi- 
tion to suiting the meter also embodies the sentiment of a 
particular hymn 1s comparatively a recent improvement in 
our song worship. Rev. J. B. Dykes, who died in 1876, may 
almost be said to be the originator of the idea. Many of 
his tunes were written with the purpose of making the music 
the exponent of one particular hymn, and it was his desire 
that the words and the music might become so fitted to 
each other as to become inseparable companions. To these 
tunes he gave names which are suggestive of the theme. 
Examples are to be found in the tunes named “Veni 
Creator,” written for a hymn beginning: 


“Come Holy Ghost, Creator, Come”; 


“St. Crosse,” for a hymn on the Crucifixion; “Anatolius,” 
for the hymn beginning: 


“The day is past and over”; 


written by an old Greek hymn writer by that name. 
“Nicwa,”’ written for the hymn beginning: 


“Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,” 


which is a hymn on the Trinity, Nicea being the town 
in which the famous Council met which proclaimed the 
“Nicene Creed,” in which the doctrine of the Trinity was 
first formulated. “Olivet,” written for the Ascension hymn 
beginning: 


“Thou art gone up on high,” 
and named for the Mount of Olives from which Christ 


ascended; “Melita,” written for the hymn for sailors, 
beginning: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 621 


“Eternal Father! strong to save, 
Whose arm doth bind the restless wave.” 


the tune being named for the island where St. Paul was 
shipwrecked; “Requiescat,”’ written for the hymn of rest, 
beginning: 


“Now the laborer’s task is over.” 


Dr. Dykes was a vicar of the Church of England, and 
he made the composition of a tune as much a religious 
service as the writing of a sermon, always offering a short 
prayer before commencing to compose a piece of music. 
He made his family his critics. It was the practice for his 
children to spend Sunday evenings singing hymns to the 
music their father had written for them, and as they sang 
they offered suggestions and criticisms which he not infre- 
quently adopted. 


No. 617, 
“OLD HUNDRED” (Tune). 


Many attempts have been made to trace this tune to its 
source, and at least one entire book has been devoted to the 
effort, but all without success. Its first appearance, so far 
as known, was in what is known as the “Genevan Psalter” 
in 1551. This book was first. published in 1548 by Clement 
Marot and then contained thirty psalms in the French 
language. John Calvin, the theologian about whose doc- 
trines people quarrel so much these days, induced him to 
add to this, and two years later a second edition was pub- 
lished containing fifty psalms. The tune of “Old Hun- 
dred” was not in either of these books, but, Marot having 
died, Calvin induced his friend Beza to continue the work 
and in 1551 he issued a new edition with thirty-four new 
Psalms, and in this “Old Hundred” appeared, set to the 


622 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


words of the one hundred and thirty-fourth Psalm. Very 
little church music at that time was strictly original. Many 
of the tunes in this Psalter are known to be but scraps of 
other music arranged together in a new way, and there are 
come evidences that this grand old tune had such an ignoble 
origin. The tune found its way to England very soon and 
was published there set to the one hundredth Psalm in 
1562. It then went by the name of “The Hundredth.” By 
and by the Psalm book of Sternhold and Hopkins, then in 
use, was superseded by that of Tate and Brady, and this 
tune, because it came out of the old book, was dubbed 
“Old Hundredth,” which in later times was shortened to 
“Old Hundred.” . 


No. 618. 
“MY COUNTRY, ’TIS OF THEE.” 


Rev. SaAMuEL FrANcIs SmitH, 1808. 


The author of this hymn tells the story of its origin. He 
says: “I was one dismal day in the month of February 
standing near my window and casually turning over a col- 
lection of German songs which had been presented to me by 
Lowell Mason, one of the most noted musicians of that time. 
I came to one which I liked. My attention was attracted 
to the words, which were of a patriotic nature, and the 
impulse came over me to make a patriotic hymn for my 
own country. I began at once and at the end of half an 
hour put the piece into my portfolio and went to my supper, 
thinking no more of the circumstance. The next time I 
went to Boston I took the song with me and gave it to Mr. 
Mason. He did not refer to it at our next meeting and it 
passed wholly out of my mind. On the next Fourth of 
July, as I was passing Park Street Church, I was attracted 
by the sound of music. I entered and found the building 
filled with boys and girls engaged in celebrating the day. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 623 


Glancing over a program held by a person in front of me, 
I saw that the last piece was a song entitled, ‘My Country, 
‘tis of Thee.’” The tune to which we sing it, and which 
we have rechristened “America,” is of disputed origin. It 
was probably composed by Henry Carey, an Englishman, 
who was born in 1685 and died in 1743. A public banquet 
was given in 1740 to celebrate the capture of Porto Bello, 
a South American city, by Admiral Vernon of the English 
Navy. At this feast Carey sang a song, the words and 
music of which were supposed to be his own. The words 
were the ones which altered a little are now used in Great 
Britain as a national hymn, beginning: 


“God bless our: gracious Queen,” 


and the music is the same as that to which we sing, 


“My Country, ’tis of Thee.” 
It can scarcely now be claimed as a national hymn, for 
Prussia, Hanover, Brunswick, Saxony, Sweden, and other 
European nations make use of it similar to ours. So that 
it has almost become an International Hymn. If Carey, 


the composer, needs additional honor, it may be added that 
he also wrote the song entitled: 


“Sally in Our Alley.” 


He ended his life by suicide. 
No. 619. 


“GOD OF MY LIFE, WHOSE GRACIOUS POWER.” 


Rev. Cartes Wesiey, 1708—1788. 


This hymn well illustrates the skill with which editors 
have often by pruning fitted a hymn of private experience 


624 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


to public worship. The whole hymn contains fifteen stanzas, 
and in them the author recounts particular instances of 
God’s providential care of him. He tells of deliverances 
from shipwreck, fever, and other diseases, and from death 
itself. Out of these the editors have culled a stanza here 
and there fit for general use. 


No. 620. 
“HEAR, LORD, THE SONG OF PRAISE AND PRAYER.” 
Wiiu1am Cowper, 1731—1800. 


Mr. Cowper, one day in 1789, wrote a letter to a friend 
sn which he said, “My friend, the vicar of the next parish 
(Olney), engaged me day before yesterday to furnish him 
next Sunday with a hymn to be sung on occasion of his 
preaching to the children of the Sunday school, of which 
hymn I have not yet produced a syllable.” He got the 
hymn finished, however, before Sunday, and this is it. 


No. 621. 
“IN THE HOUR OF TRIAL, JESU, PRAY FOR ME.” 
James Montcomery, 1771—1854. 


In 1834, a lady asked the author of this hymn to write 
something in her album. He compiled and wrote there this 
hymn, entitling it “Prayers for Pilgrimage,” and basing it 
on the words of Jesus to Peter, “I have prayed for thee, 
that thy faith fail not.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 625 


No. 622, 
“IN SLEEP’S SERENE OBLIVION LAID.” 
Joun Hawkeswortu, 1715—1773. 


John Hawkesworth did not have the advantages of early 
education, but was trained to mechanical occupation. He 
taught himself, however, and acquired such a reputation as 
a writer as to receive the degree of LL.D. One night, about 
a month before his death, he was unable to sleep, and so 
occupied the time in composing this hymn, which in the 
morning he dictated to his wife. 


No. 628. 
“STRONG SON OF GOD, IMMORTAL LOVE.” 
ALFRED, Lorp Tennyson, 1809. 


The author of this hymn, while at Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge, England, about 1828, formed an intimate friendship 
with Arthur H. Hallam, a son of the historian. Hallam 
afterward became engaged to Tennyson’s sister. Hallam 
had finished his college course and was studying law. In 
1833, with his father, he visited the Continent, and while at 
Vienna a sudden rush of blood to the head caused his death. 
As Tennyson described it, “God’s finger touched him and 
he slept.” The impressions produced by this sudden death 
of his intimate friend led Tennyson to write what is perhaps 
his best poem, “In Memoriam.” This is the introduction to 
that poem. . 


626 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 624. 
“TAKE MY LIFE AND LET IT BE.” 


Miss Frances Ripper Haverear, 1836—1879. 


The author of this hymn went for a five-day visit to the 
home of some friends. It was in 1874. There were ten 
persons in the house, some unconverted and some Chris- 
tians, but as she says “not rejoicing Christians.” She 
prayed, “Lord give me all in this house,”’ and as she writes 
it in her somewhat exuberant style, “And He just did! 
Before I left the house every one had got a blessing. The 
last night of my visit I was too happy to sleep and passed 
most of the night in praise and renewal of my own conse- 
cration, and these little couplets formed themselves and 
chimed in my heart one after another till they finished 
with, ‘Ever, only, All for thee.’ 2 


No. 625. 
“THY WORD, O LORD, THY PRECIOUS WORD ALONE.” 


AtrreD MIpLANE, 1825. 


One hymn has sometimes led to the writing of another. 
The author of this hymn was one Sunday morning walking 
along the shore of an English lake thinking of Cardinal 
Newman’s hymn, “Lead, kindly Light,” the circumstances 
that led to its being written, and the later career of its 
author, whom he had just seen, arrayed in all the glory of 
a Cardinal at a requiem mass. His thought was that the 
light that, Newman sought was a delusive one like the “Will 
o’ the Wisp,” and that the only safe light to follow in time 
of doubt and uncertainty is the word of God. With this 
thought he took out his memorandum book and wrote this 
hymn. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 627 
No. 626. 
“WHAT CAN WASH AWAY MY STAIN?” 


Rev. Ropert Lowry, 1826. 


A man, whose wicked life was troubling him, was travel- 
ing by night on a railway train. He stopped at a station 
and a workman passed along with his hammer testing the 
wheels, and as he went from wheel to wheel he sang softly 
to himself the words: 


“What can wash away my stain? 
Nothing but the blood of Jesus. 

What can make me whole again? 
Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” 


The words of the song brought to the troubled heart in the 
car above him the message of peace, and he went on his 
way, rejoicing in the “blood which cleanseth from all sin.” 


No. 627. 
“HARK THE GOSPEL NEWS IS SOUNDING.” 


Rev. Hucu*Bourne, 1772—1852. 


WILLIAM SANDERS. 


This has been called “The Primitive Methodist Grand 
March,” from the fact that it is much used by them in out- 
door processions. It was once being sung at the dusk of 
evening in a little English hamlet, and a young man who 
was just then anxiously thinking of his soul’s greatest need, 
was leaning against a wall a little way off. He heard the 
music, and the words of the refrain were borne to him too, 


628 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


on the cool evening air, “none need perish.” It was the 
message he needed just at that time, and it led him to 
Christ. 


No. 628. 
“AH, HOW SHALL FALLEN MAN.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, 1674—1748. 


A good deal is said and said justly about the altering or 
mending of hymns. A hymn becomes perhaps a favorite 
with us, and we find out who its author was, and there is a 
sort of bond of friendship between us, for did he not write 
a hymn we have learned to love? Well, perhaps he did and 
perhaps he didn’t. Here is one written by the inventor of 
hymns, Dr. Watts, but it has been so amended and emended, 
transposed and altered, that only a single line remains just 
as its author wrote it. That line is worthy of note; it is the 
third line of the first stanza: 


“Tf he contend in righteousness.” 


No. 629. 
“MY JESUS AS THOU WILT.” 


Rev. BENJAMIN ACHMOLKE, 1672—1737. 


There was a time in Germany, from about 1650 to 1750, 
when religion was at a very low ebb. Lutheranism had, as 
one expresses it, been petrified from living conviction into 
dead dogma, and most of the people while giving a formal 
observance to religious services, applied very little of it to 
their lives. It was the first part of the eighteenth century 
of which it was said that in Germany no satire could be 
witty except at the expense of the Bible, and Bible texts or 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 629 


sacred hymns were made the frequent subject of jest and 
laughter. At that time there arose in Geimany a movement 
looking to more spiritual living, which was afterward in 
contempt called Pietism. The Pietists prohibited many 
forms of amusement, were evangelical in their doctrine, and 
as the name implies taught the highest. piety in life and 
thought. Although very different from the Methodist move- 
ment which arose in England three-quarters of a century 
later, it still in many respects bore a striking resemblance 
to it. Methodism and Piétism were alike a reaction from a 
formal lifeless religious condition; they both obtained their 
names from the ridicule of their opponents, and each gave 
rise to what might be called a new style of religious hymns. 
The author of this hymn was a Pietist, 


No. 630. 
“SAVIOR, VISIT THY PLANTATION.” 


Rev. Joun Newton, 1725—1807. 


John Newton wrote in his diary in 1775, “I usually make 
one hymn a week to expound at the Great House.” The 
“Great House” was a large unoccupied residence in Olney, 
the use of which Newton had obtained for the weekly 
prayer meeting of his people. A hymn that can be “ex- 
pounded” is a hymn that will live. Newton’s hymns are 
not of high poetic merit, but they can be “expounded,” and 
so they fit imto human experience, and meet a want of 
Christian singers. Those weekly prayer meetings at the 
“Great House” in Olney must have been of unusual interest. 
Cowper, the poet, was a regular attendant; so bashful that 
he could seldom be induced to take any part, and yet gifted 
in prayer as much as in poetry, but Newton himself ex- 
pounding to his people one of his own hymns must have 
given to those gatherings a peculiar charm. Imagine him 
reading for the first time the hymn: 


630 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Savior, visit Thy plantation! 
Grant us, Lord, a gracious rain! 

All will come to desolation, 
Unless Thou return again.” 


We can almost imagine we hear his voice. “Ah, how I 
remember the time when I was working on a plantation on 
the African coast. We were only ten degrees from the 
equator and the heat was almost unbearable. From No- 
vember to May no rain fell and the ground became dry and 
parched. Nothing grew; nothing could grow. ‘The little 
slips of lemon plants I had set out during the rainy season 
of the year before, which then looked gay and green, 
were drooping and likely to die. Nothing that we could do 
was of any help; help could only come from the sky. How 
we watched the clouds along the horizon, and hoped they 
would not keep at a distance, but would come to us with 
their reviving showers. Just as it is in our spiritual lives, 
there come times when our religious life seems dried up. 
There is no growth, no fruit, no beauty. Our hearts seem 
dry and stony. We think of the times when our spirits 
were nourished by God’s word, and we were happy, and we 
compare those times with these and think what a sad de- 
cline there is. We need a rain! a rain from heaven! A 
shower of God’s grace. Let us pray for it my people, that 
from this very hour while we are gathered here, God may 
begin to revive His work in our hearts.” 

And so out of his own experience he would expound to 
them the hymn. And then perhaps he would tell them the 
story how once his master on the plantation sneeringly said 
to him as he pointed to the little plants he had set out, 
“Who knows but by the time these grow up and bear, you 
may go home to England, obtain the command of a ship 
and come back to eat their fruit.’ But just what he said to 
me so tauntingly actually happened, for I did go home to 
England, and became Captain of a ship, and I really did 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 631 


go back and saw those very plants I had set out grown to 
trees and bearing fruit.” 


No. 631. 
“QO MASTER, IT IS GOOD TO BE.” 


Rev. AktTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, 1815—1881. 


It is a little remarkable that when the Bible has been 
versified from beginning to end and almost every scene it 
depicts made the subject of many hymns, so noteworthy 
an event as the Transfiguration should have been overlooked. 
Charles Wesley, with his six thousand hymns, has none 
of this subject, nor Watts, nor Doddridge. The fact that 
in all English hymnology there was no Transfiguration hymn 
was brought to the attention of Dean Stanley, and it led 
him to write this hymn. 


No. 632. 
Mrs. Ceci Frances ALEXANDER, 1823. 


In the house of a gentleman in County Tyrone in the 
North of Ireland, it was the custom for each member of 
the family to deposit in a box in the father’s study, such 
compositions either in poetry or prose as they chose to 
write. This practice was begun with the children of the 
family as soon as they could write. It was understood that 
the writing was to be disguised so that the authors of 
the pieces would not be known. Every Saturday evening the 
box was emptied and the compositions read and talked 
about by the family. Soon after one of the little daughters 
of the family learned to write, scraps of poetry began to 
make their appearance in the box, and as she grew older 
these poetic bits became longer and better, and it was not 
long until the father and mother had discovered that their 


632 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


daughter Fannie had the true gift of poetry. She is now 
the wife of Rev. William Alexander, Bishop of Derry, who 
has himself written some very good hymns, but none so 
popular as those of his wife. She has written nearly four 
hundred, and one little book of hers entitled “Hymns for 
Little Children” has reached a sale of more than a quarter 
of a million of copies. She receives quite an income from 
her literary work, all of which she devotes to the support of 
a school for deaf mutes located near her home. 


Baths u-9e No. 633. 
“HARK, THE VOICE OF JESUS CALLING.” 


Rey. Dantet Marcu, 1816. 


The author of this hymn was to preach in Philadelphia 
on the eighteenth of October, 1868, to the Christian Associa- 
tion of that city. At the last moment almost, he learned 
that one of the hymns that had been selected was not 
suitable to his theme, which was based on the words in 
Isaiah, 6:8, “Here am I, send me.” In “great haste,” he 
says, he wrote this hymn to be substituted for the other, 
and it was sung from the manuscript. Although written 
so hurriedly it is scarcely ever altered in the collections 
containing it. 


No. 634. 
“LORD, WHILE FOR ALL MANKIND WE PRAY.” 


Rev. Joun ReEYNELL WREFORD. 


When Queen Victoria ascended the throne of England, 
there was a new inspiration given to the poets of that 
country, and songs and hymns were brought out in great 
numbers on subjects connected with the new Queen or the 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 633 


nation. This was one of the number, and it was intended 
as a prayer for the nation under its new ruler. 


No. 635. 
“TO-DAY THE SAVIOR CALLS.” 


Tuomas Hastincs. 


Sometimes a hymn is sung under circumstances which 
make it almost prophetic. On the evening when the Chicago 
fire broke out, Mr. D. L. Moody spoke at Farwell Hall 
to an audience of three thousand persons. During the 
meeting this hymn was sung, and ten persons expressed 
their determination to begin the Christian life. As they 
went out into the street, the flames were seen rising high 
against the sky, and three of the number perished in the 
conflagration. 


No. 636. 
“DAY IS DYING IN THE WEST.” 


Miss Mary A. LatHupury. 


You know the story of “Ten Times One is Ten” written 
by Dr. Edward Everett Hale. Dr. Hale formulated a 
motto for one of these ““Ten Times One Clubs.” It was: 


“Look up and not down, 
Look out and not in, 
Look forward and not back, 
Lend a hand.” 


Miss Mary A. Lathbury saw these mottoes on the wall of 
a friend’s parlor in 1874, in Orange, New Jersey, and con- 
ceived the thought of a “Look up Legion” which has grown 


634 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


into a membership of many thousands among the boys and 
girls of the Methodist Church. This same Miss Lath- 
bury has “lent a hand” in our service of song, by- writing this 
and other hymns. This one was written in the summer of 
1880 at the request of Rev. John H. Vincent as a vesper 
song for meetings of the “C. L. §. C.,” of which he was 
the head. 


No. 637. 
“CHRIST, FOR THE WORLD WE SINv.” 


Rev. SAMUEL WOLCOTT. 


In the year 1869, the Young Men’s Christian Associa- 
tions of Ohio met in convention in one of the churches 
of Cleveland. Across the end of the audience room above 
the pulpit, they had hung in evergreen letters the motto, 
“Christ for the world, and the world for Christ.” Dr. 
Wolcott saw the motto as he sat in the meeting; it fixed 
itself in his mind, and on his way home, as he walked along 
the street, he put it into the words of this hymn. 


No. 638. 
“BEYOND THE STARRY SKIES.” 


In most books, this hymn is credited to Rev. James 
Fanch alone or coupled with Dr. Daniel Turner, both 
English Baptists, but their version is probably an enlarge- 
ment of an earlier piece composed by John Berridge, a very 
eccentric but very devoted minister of the Church of 
England, and his brother, who was a humble porter. 

_ The story is told that the clergyman called on his 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 635 


brother to take a letter for him, and received the reply that 
he “couldn’t go as he was writing a hymn.” ‘“That’s my 
business,” said the preacher, “you take the letter and Ill 
finish the hymn.” When the porter got back his clerical 
brother had not yet completed the hymn, the last stanza 
proving too much for him. 

“O, I have that,” cried the porter, and added the four 
last lines a little differently from our present version: 


“They brought his chariot from above, 
To bear him to his throne. 
Clapped their triumphant wings and cried, 
‘The glorious work is done.’ ” 


No. 639. 
“FRIEND AFTER FRIEND DEPARTS.” 


JAMES MONTGOMERY. 


When Montgomery was in middle life (forty-six) there 
came to Sheffield where he lived a clergyman of the Church 
of England to be curate of the church in that city. Although 
Montgomery was a Moravian he soon formed a close friend- 
ship with the curate. They compiled a hymn book together, 
each furnishing many of his own composition, while to- 
gether they edited the hymns of other writers, altering, and 
clipping, and adding to them in a way which was reckless 
of all authority or respect; but however much they may 
have hurt the feelings of other poets, their own friendship 
was cemented very closely by the work, so that when, 
after six years of companionship, Dr. Cotterill died, 
Mr. Montgomery enshrined his grief in the words of this 
hymn, 


636 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 640. 
“RETURN, O WANDERER TO THY HOME.” 


Tuomas HASTINGS. 


Not far from the year 1830, a minister at Utica, New 
York, was preaching a sermon on “The Prodigal Son.” 
Two hundred converts were present. At the close of the 
sermon the preacher cried with very tender emphasis, 
“Sinner, come home! Come home! Come home!” The 
author of this hymn was present. He had already returned 
to his Father himself, but the words so impressed him that 
he made them the keynote of a hymn which has been very 
effective in revival services ever since, and so has perpetu- 
ated the Utica sermon. 


No. 641. 
“FROM GREENLAND’S ICY. MOUNTAINS.” 


Rev. R. HEsBer. 


The second stanza of this hymn gives an example of 
correct description: 


“What though the spicy breezes 
Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle.” 


A few years after the hymn was written its author went 
to India as Bishop of Calcutta and when off the Island of 
Ceylon he noted in his journal, “Though we were too far 
off Ceylon to catch the odors of the land, yet it is, we 
are assured, perfectly true that such odors are perceptible 
to a very considerable distance. In the straits of Malacca 
a smell like that of a hawthorn hedge is commonly experi- 
enced, and from Ceylon at thirty or forty miles, under 
certain circumstances a yet more agreeable scent is inhaled.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 637 
No. 642. 
“JESUS, I LOVE THY CHARMING NAME.” 


Rev. Puimure Doppripce. - 


The name of Jesus often remains with the aged and 
feeble-minded after other names are forgotten. There is 
a story of an old minister who had grown quite feeble 
in mind from long illness, who instantly roused himself 
when some one in his presence spoke of Christ with doubt 
of his divinity and his equality with God. “Stuff! poison!” 
he exclaimed, “do not let it into your minds!” and then 
he repeated this hymn with vigor and emphasis. As soon 
as he had finished it he relapsed again into apparent indif- 
ference to the persons and the conversation around him. 


No. 648. 
“IF YOU CANNOT ON THE OCEAN.” 


Mrs ELvten Huntinepon Gates. 


About this hymn the author says, “The lines were written 
upon my slate, one snowy afternoon, in the winter of 1860. 
I know, as I know now, that the poem was only a simple 
little thing; but somehow I had a presentiment that it 
had wings, and would fly into sorrowful hearts, uplifting 
and strengthening them.” 


No. 644. 
JOHANN Wa.ruer, 1496—1570. 


In a little German village there lived a man who worked 
at the trade of a tailor through the week and then on 


638 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Sundays played the organ at the village church. For 
this last service, although everyone said his music was 
wonderful, the Parish paid him a-sum equivalent to 
twenty dollars a year. With a wife and half a dozen 
children to support, they-were always poor; so poor indeed 
and so hopeless of better condition that the pastor of the 
little church urged him to go to the city and play to the 
prince, “for,” said he, “the court organist cannot possibly 
play so well as you.” But the modest musician refused to go. 

One night there came the cry of fire, and the musician’s 
little cottage with all that it contained was burned to 
ashes. Then he bethought him of his pastor’s words, and 
decided to go to the city. His pastor gave him a letter 
to the prince, and a few days later he stood at the great 
stone steps of the palace, and was driven away by a guard 
who thought him a beggar. He turned to go away and 
stood for a moment not knowing what to do, while hot 
tears found their way down his cheeks. Just then a pleasant- 
voiced man accosted him, and finding that he wished to 
see the prince, took him into his own little room, for he 
proved to be the prince’s chamberlain. To him he told his 
story and gave his letter, and was told to wait a while and he 
should see the prince, and, while he waited, to go into the 
chapel and amuse himself by playing on the great organ. 
Seating himself there he hardly dared to touch the keys 
of an instrument so much grander than anything he had 
ever seen, but he softly played the music used among 
the Germans then to the words: 


“Commit thou all thy griefs 
And ways into His hands, 

To His sure trust and tender care, 
Who earth and heaven commands.” 


Then as the sound of the music overcame his bashful- 
ness he forgot himself and drew from the great organ such 
floods of melody as had never filled the place before. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 639 


Suddenly a hand was laid upon his shoulder and a pleasant 
voice addressed him, “Well dene, my new organist! Stop 
playing now and talk with my chamberlain.” It was the 
prince himself to whom the chamberlain had already told 
the story and who had stolen in to hear for himself what 
the poor musician could do. The chamberlain told him 
that he was to be from that time organist to the prince, 
with a home for his family and a salary that to him seemed 
princely. At first he could searcely believe his ears, but 
in a moment the tears ran down his cheeks again, only 
this time they were tears of joy. ‘What will my dear wife 
say when I tell her this?” he cried, and then with eyes 
lifted to the sky he repeated the words of the Psalm, “Oh 
give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good, for His mercy 
endureth forever.’’ He is celebrated most as a musician, 
but he wrote a few hymns. 


No. 646. 


Tuomas AUGUSTINE ARNE, 1710—1778. 


Son of a wealthy London upholsterer, and intended by 
his father for a lawyer. He was forbidden to play at 
home, but managed to convey a spinet to his room, and 
to learn the use of the keys by muffling the strings with 
a handkerchief. One day his father called at a gentleman’s 
house where a musical party was in full blast and was 
both amazed and disgusted to see his boy filling the place 
of first fiddler. After this, however, he was allowed to 
study at home and soon became skilful. “Rule Britannia” 
was the closing song in a piece entitled “Alfred,” written 
jointly by David Mallet and James T hompson, author of 
“The Seasons.” The words were set to music by Dr. 
Arne, to celebrate the anniversary of the accession of 
the House of Hanover and first sung in a temporary theatre 
erected at Bucks, where the Prince of Wales resided. Dr. 
Arne’s last words were those of song. He was attempting 


640 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


to illustrate with his voice a musical idea, when his voice 
faltered, the sounds grew fainter, and song and breathing 
ceased together. 


No. 646. 
“JESUS, SHEPHERD OF THE SHEEP.” 


Rev. Henry Cooke. 


This hymn may be more interesting to us if we know 
something of its author. It is not a familiar name in our 
hymn books, indeed so far as known this is the only hymn 
he ever wrote, and yet it seems pretty certain that the one 
who could write such a hymn as this could write others. 
Henry Cooke ‘was an Irishman with the wit of his race, and 
their eloquence too. He was pastor of a Presbyterian 
Church in Ireland, at a time when the pulpits and the pews 
of his denomination in Ireland were poisoned through and 
through with the doctrines of Unitarianism. He became the 
champion of orthodoxy, and for half a lifetime, waged 
relentless war against the heresy that was in the churches. 
He was tireless in his work, writing, debating, preaching, 
planning to re-establish Christ as divine in the faith of 
the Irish Church. In this he was successful, and he lived 
to see his denomination in Ireland re-established as an 
orthodox Trinitarian body. If such a person should write a 
hymn, and but a single one, it could not well be other than 
this one is, full of the faith of Christ. Rev. John Hall, of 
New York, was the pupil and friend of its author. 


No. 647. 


“JESUS, IN THY DYING WOES.” 


Rey. Tuomas B. Potuocx. 


By comparing the accounts given of the crucifixion of 
Christ in the different gospels, it can be found that while 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 641 


on the cross Jesus spoke at seven different times. He 
prayed for those who were crucifying Him, “Father, for- 
give them! for they know not what they do.” He said to 
the thief, “To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.” And 
to his mother, as she stood with John, the beloved disciple, 
“Woman, behold thy son.” At the ninth hour, he cried to 
God again, “Why hast thou forsaken me,” and said to his 
friends, “I thirst,” and then at the end he cried, “It is 
finished,” and offered the prayer, ‘Father, into thy hands 
I commend my Spirit.” These words, which are called 
sometimes “The seven words of Christ upon the cross,” have 
been woven into a hymn, of seven parts, referring, respec- 
tively, to these seven sayings of Christ. The first part 
begins with the line: 


“Jesus, in Thy dying woes.” 


No. 648. 


“WHEN MY FINAL FAREWELL TO THE WORLD I HAVE 
SAID.” 


M. F. Hearn. 


During the visit of Moody and Sankey to Great Britain 
in 1875, an infidel, a man past middle life who for years 
had zealously attacked the Christian religion on all possible 
occasions, began attending their meetings for the avowed 
purpose of scoffing at the service and, as he said, “expos- 
ing the humbug.” One night Mr. Sankey sang this hymn, 
and when he came to the stanza: 


“There are little ones glancing about in my path, 
In want of a friend and a guide. 
There are dear little eyes looking up into mine, 

Whose tears might be easily dried. 


642 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


But Jesus may beckon the children away, 
In the midst of their grief and their glee; 
* Will any of them at the beautiful gate 
Be waiting and watching for me!” 


the memory of a baby face that had once looked up into his, 
but which had been long ago “beckoned away,” came up 
before him so vividly, that he was melted to tears, and 
the truth of a living Christ, in whose presence his child 
was living, made of the man who came an infidel, an 
earnest Christian worker. 


During the Moody and Sankey meetings at the Taber- 
nacle built for their use in Chicago, a man arose and related 
his own experience. He said that he had been so intem- — 
perate that two years before, when his mother died, on his 
way to notify some neighbors that she was dying, he stopped 
at a saloon and got drunk. He had recently come to Chicago | 
to put himself into a reformatory institution and had got 
drunk on his way to the city. One Sunday he wandered 
into the Tabernacle to rest, being broken down physically 
and mentally by drink. Mr. Sankey sang this hymn, and it 
set him to thinking about his mother and that word of all 
others, said he, “had power to touch my hardened heart.” 
All Sunday night he had paced the streets unable to think 
of anything but his mother in heaven, waiting and watching 
for him, and on Monday he had gone back to the revival 
services and been converted there. 


No. 649. 
“THERE IS A LAND OF PURE DELIGHT.” 
Rey. Issac Warts. 


Dr. Talmadge in one of his sermons says, “I do not 
know how we shall stand the first day in Heaven. I 
once gave out in church the hymn: 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 643 


‘There is a land of pure delight 
Where saints immortal reign. 

Infinite day excludes the night 
And pleasures banish pain.’ 


“An old man standing in front of the pulpit sang heartily 
the first stanza, and then he sat down weeping. I said 
to him afterward, ‘Father Linton, what made you cry over 
that hymn?’ 

“He answered, ‘I could not stand it, the joys that are 
coming.’ ” 


No. 650. 
“COME, MY SOUL, THY SUIT PREPARE.” 


Rev. JoHn NewTon. 


In very olden times, there lived a king who surpassed 
in the splendor of his court all who had lived before 
him. His name signified “the peaceful king.” It is re- 
lated of him that once upon a time he went to one of the 
celebrated shrines of his land to offer sacrifices to his 
God, and this he did in a manner befitting his wealth and 
rank, for he offered a thousand burnt offerings upon the 
altar there. The God he worshipped responded to the 
splendid gift by appearing to him in a dream by night and 
saying to him, “Ask what I shall give thee.” You will 
find the story recorded in the First Book of Kings, 3:5. 
In commenting on this story, Matthew Henry, the quaint 
old English divine, says that, “Whatever God sends down 
to us in a promise, we ought to send back to Him in a 
prayer.” 

John Newton was a firm believer in the power and efficacy 
of prayer, and taking this response of Solomon’s God, to 
the worship of his subject as his theme, he wrote this hymn 
to be sung at the little prayer meeting at Olney. Rev. 


644 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Charles Spurgeon was in the habit of having one or two 
stanzas from this hymn chanted softly each Sunday by his 
great congregation just before his prayer. 


No. 661. 
“CHRIST IS BORN, TELL FORTH HIS FAME.” 


Sr. Cosmas (died about 760). 


This hymn takes us back twelve hundred years, and to 
the land where the Christ was born whose birthday it 
commemorates. An orphan boy was adopted by a man 
who had one boy of his own, and the two lived for a time 
together at Damascus, then went together to the Monastery 
of St. Saba, in the wilderness between Jerusalem and the 
Dead Sea, and there spent their lives together as monks. 
They both had poetic tastes and stimulated each other in 
the writing of hymns by selecting the same theme for their 
poems, and trying in friendly rivalry to see which should. 
best succeed. St. Stephen, who wrote the hymn “Art thou 
weary, art thou languid,’ was the nephew of one of these 
boys, St. John of Damascus, and all three were monks to- 
gether in St. Saba. 


No. 682. 
“FATHER! I OWN THY VOICE.” 


Rev. SAMUEL WOLCOTT. 


The author of this hymn tells the story of its origin, and 
of all the others he has written as well, as follows: 

“In the year 1868, Rev. Darius E. Jones requested me 
to mark for him the published hymns which I would use 
in a new collection. After a partial performance of this 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 645 


service, near the close of the year, the query arose in my 
mind, ‘Can I not write a hymn?’ I was then in my fifty- 
sixth year, had never put two rhymes together, and had 
taken it for granted that I was as incompetent to write 
a hymn or even a stanza as to work a miracle. However, 
I resolved that I would try to write a hymn of five stanzas, 
and proceeded to plan it precisely as I would plan a sermon. 
I said, the first stanza shall be a recognition of God the 
Father; the second, a recognition of Christ the Redeemer; 
the third, a prayer to God the Father; the fourth, a 
prayer to Christ the Redeemer, and the fifth shall blend 
the two in one address. All this, you understand, without 
any train of thought in my mind; and a perfect recipe for 
wooden stanzas it would be difficult to frame. I went to 
work to fill out my plan, and the result was the hymn as it 
now stands, ‘Father! I own Thy voice.’ 

“T cannot express to you my surprise when I found that 
I had written what could actually be sung. I sent the 
hymn to Mr. Jones, who was so much pleased with it that 
he composed a tune to it, and inserted both in his ‘Songs 
for the New Life’ (Chicago, 1869). I have not seen the 
hymn in any other collection, but I retain a natural predi- 
lection for it. I soon tried my hand again. The Young 
Men’s Christian Association of Ohio met in one of our 
churches, with their motto, in evergreen letters over the 
pulpit: ‘Christ for the World, and the World for Christ.’ 
This suggested the hymn, ‘Christ for the world we sing.’ ” 


No. 653. 
“ANGELS HOLY, HIGH, AND LOWLY.” 


Pror. Joun Stuart BLACKIE. 


If there is nothing of special interest to be said about, 
a hymn as to its origin or use, we can often clothe it with 


646 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘new value in our use of it by some little glimpse of its 
author, as to what sort of man he was, how he looked, 
acted, spoke. Here is a scrap by the author of this hymn, 
which, I am sure, will make us feel a little better acquainted 
with him and make his hymn more enjoyable. He says: 
“T sometimes wish myself back in the Middle Ages, when 
the minstrel was the only teacher, and when singing was 
almost the only sermon. And I will tell you why; reading 
is a stupid, dull kind of thing, but singing stirs up the whole 
soul. In the best days of the world there was no reading 
and no books at all. Homer never saw a book, never could 
have seen a book. I think we see a great deal too many 
books. A great number of people become mere reading 
machines having no living functions at all. I would like 
some time to give you a lecture on the logic of education. 
It simply means that you must learn to use your legs, your 
arms, your ears, your tongues, and your throats—every part 
of your soul and your body—rather than be crammed up 
with all sorts of things, and then measured with red tape 
by a gentleman from London. Especially if you wish to 
be happy cultivate song. I am rather a young-old boy, 
and I am one of the happiest creatures under the sun at this 
moment; and my amusement is to sing songs. In railway 
coaches, and other places, I see a number smoking what 
they call tobacco. Well, whatever may be said about that, 
it is not an intellectual or a moral stimulant, and the 
flavor of it is not at all like the rose, or any poetic thing 
I know. It is essentially a vulgar sort of amusement. My 
amusement is to sing songs. At home I am always singing 
Scotch songs; and abroad, when those wretches are smoking, 
I hum to myself, ‘Scots wha hae,’ ‘A man’s a man for a’ 
that,’ and songs of that kind. I advise you to do the same. 
Your soul will become a singing bird, and then the devil 
won’t get near it.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 647 


No. 654. 


“HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION, YE SAINTS OF THE 
LORD.” 


Dr. C. S. Robinson relates that once in the old oratory 
at evening devotion in Princeton Seminary the elder 
Dr. Hodge, then venerable with years. and piety, paused as 
he read this hymn, preparatory to the singing, and in the 
depth of his emotion was obliged to close his delivery of 
the final lines with a mere gesture of pathetic and adoring 
wonder at the matchless grace of God in Christ, and his 
hand silently beat time to the rhythm instead: 


“T’ll never—no never—no never—forsake!” 


No. 656. 
“LORD OF ALL BEING; THRONED AFAR.” 


OLIVER WENDELL HoLMEs. 


Most people have read those two delightful books, ‘“The 
Autocrat of the Breakfast Table” and “The Professor 
at the Breakfast Table,” both written by Dr. Oliver Wendell 
Holmes and both of which before being published as books 
appeared as-serials in the Atlantic Monthly. In the num- 
ber of that periodical for December, 1859, the last of the 
papers making up “The Professor at the Breakfast Table” 
appeared, and it ends as follows: ‘And so my year’s record 
is finished. The Professor has talked less than his prede- 
cessor (The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table), but he has 
heard and seen more. Thanks to all those friends who 
from time to time have sent their messages of kindly 
recognition and fellow feeling. Peace to all such as may 


648 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


have been vexed in spirit by any utterance the pages have 
repeated. They will doubtless forget for the moment the 
difference in the lines of truth we look at through our human 
prisms, and join in singing (inwardly) this hymn to the 
Source of the light we all need to lead us, and the warmth 
which alone can make us all brothers.” Then follows this 
beautiful lyric. 


No. 686. 
“Q THOU FROM WHOM ALL GOODNESS FLOWS.” 


Rev. THomas HAwEIs. 


This hymn deserves a place among missionary hymns 
if for no other reason than that it afforded to a devoted 
missionary comfort and strength under persecution. No 
doctrine of the Christian faith is so obnoxious to Mohamme- 
dans as that of the Divinity of Christ, for it gives to Him 
the place they want for Mohammed. Rev. Henry Martyn, 
when a missionary among them, records that, “It is this 
doctrine which exposes me to the contempt of the learned 
Mohammedans, in whom it is difficult to say whether pride 
or ignorance predominates. Their sneers are more difficult 
to bear than the brickbats that the boys sometimes throw 
at me; however, both are an honor of which I am not 
worthy. How many times in the day have I occasion to 
repeat the words: 


‘If on my face, for Thy dear Name, 
Shame and reproaches be; 

All hail, reproach, and welcome, shame, 
If Thou remember me.’ ”’ 


On June 12, 1812, the scene is repeated. One of the Viziers 
(it is in Persia) says to him: “You had better say, ‘God is 
God, and Mohammed is the prophet of God.’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 649 


Martyn replied: “God is God, and Jesus is the Son of 
God.” 

They were fiercely enraged, and cried out in wrath and 
contempt, and one said: “What will you.say when your 
tongue is burnt out for this blasphemy?” 

“Thus,” continues Martyn, “I walked away alone to my 
tent, to pass the rest of the day in heat and dirt. ‘What 
have I done,’ thought I, ‘to merit all this scorn? Nothing, 
I trust, but bearing testimony to Jesus.’ I thought over 
these things in prayer, and found that peace which Christ 
hath promised to His disciples.” 


No. 657. 
“THERE IS AN EYE THAT NEVER SLEEPS.” 


Rev. J. C. Wauuace, 1793—1841. 


This hymn is a fine statement of the power of prayer, and 
may, therefore, be called worshipful, but there is not a 
word in it of prayer itself. Duffield fitly appends to it the 
incident related by Edward Pierrepont, in his book, “From 
Fifth Avenue to Alaska.” Mr. Pierrepont was on a hunting 
expedition in the mountains of Wyoming and became lost. 
He was alone, without food, fire, or shelter in the midst 
of a driving snowstorm. “The snow flakes,’ he says, 
“became thicker than ever. Round and round we wheeled. 
My hands became nearly too numb to guide the horse, 
and it seemed as if we should never reach the place of 
descent. We could hardly see twenty feet ahead; all sides 
looked perpendicular; and, although up at this great alti- 
tude, not a glimpse could I catch of the surrounding country. 
The bare ridge was about one mile in circumference, and 
my former horse tracks had long ago been obliterated. At 
last I recognized a curiously twisted fir, and saw that I 
had been merely making a circle. In despair, knowing 
that at this altitude without fire the morning would find 


650 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


me frozen, strangely there came to my mind these words of 
Tennyson: 


‘More things are wrought by prayer 
-Than this world dreams of’; 


and 1 earnestly prayed that for one moment the storm might 
abate and allow me a glimpse of where I was. Hardly had 
I uttered the words when one of the most striking incidents 
of my life took place. It may have been a mere coincidence, 
but I was so impressed with the occurrence that I could 
but feel that the act, which the memory of Tennyson’s lines 
prompted, had something to do with the phenomenon which 
so quickly followed. Suddenly the wind lulled; the snow 
ceased falling; the heavy shrouds of mist which hung over 
the valley and mountain tops lifted; and low in the west 
the declining sun, having but brief time to light, shone 
brightly. The huge, lone ranges, as far as the eye could 
reach, sparkled in their new white robes; and the winding 
stream near which the old camp lay seemed but a mile 
distant. Even the tired old horse raised his head as if 
encouraged with new life. I soon found the hitherto hidden 
descent, and quickly gained the lower ridge, the gradual 
slope of which I knew would bring me back to camp. For 
full thirty minutes the sky remained clear, with the excep- 
tion of large fleecy clouds driving across its face; then, as 
suddenly, the wind swept through the valleys, and all 
became dark and threatening as before.” 


No. 658. 


“LET US GATHER UP THE SUNBEAMS.” 


Mrs. ALBERT SMITH. 


Philip Phillips, who by his services of song held all over 
the world acquired the title of “the Singing Pilgrim,” once 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 651 


held a service in the Jerry McCauley Mission in Water 
Street, New York. It was on a Sunday evening, and the 
room was crowded with the most vicious characters of the 
city. Just as the exercises were about to begin, Kit Burns, 
a notorious and desperate character, and a band of about 
thirty “roughs” marched up the aisle and seated themselves 
directly in front of Mr. Phillips. He feared they intended 
to make trouble, but with a prayer for help he began the 
service. 

By and by some one called out from the door, “Kit, 
you’re wanted.” 

Rising at once in his seat, Kit sent back the answer, 
“Tell ’em to go to h—ll.” 

The singing went on and soon the rowdy outside put 
his head in at the door again and shouted, “Kit, you're 
wanted outside.” 

This time Burns stood up again and in his hoarse voice 
called out, “Tell ’em this is the first Jesus meeting I’ve 
ever been at, and I shall stay till it’s out.” The power of 
song had enchained him. During the meeting this song 
was sung with its eft repeated refrain, “Then scatter seeds 
of kindness.” A few days after, one of the women who had 
been present at the meeting was found drunk on the street 
near by. She was taken into the mission room where she 
lay for some time sleeping off her drunken stupor. When 
she awoke she looked around, and not recognizing the sur- 
roundings concluded she was in the “Tombs” and began to 
talk to herself. “Now I'll have to stay here thirty days. 
My business will all go to sticks! I know that policeman, 
d—n him! when I get out I'll fix him!” But just here she 
looked more carefully about the room and saw that she 
had mistaken the place, and then the talk went on: 
‘“Humph! I ain’t in the Tombs after all. Where am I?— 
Oh, I see, I’m in that place where they scatter seeds of 
kindness.” The matron overheard her, spoke to her, gave 
her a bath, and a cup of tea. Some friends gathered about 


652 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


her, and before she left the place she was converted. She 
died not long after, having remained steadfast to the end. 


No. 659. 
“I GAVE MY LIFE FOR THEE.” 


Miss F. R. HAvVERGAL. 


On one occasion when Philip Phillips held a service of 
song in Philadelphia, Mr. R. Pearsall Smith, well known 
as the author of “The Rest of Faith,” was in thé audience. 
Shortly after he wrote to Mr. Phillips, asking him to visit 
his father’s house and sing some of his songs there. “My 
father,’ wrote Mr. Smith, “is a good man, but although 
all his children are Christians, he has never made a pro- 
fession. Now I have faith to believe that if you will go 
there and sing some of your songs, he will give his heart to 
Christ.” 

Mr. Phillips went to the old man’s house, no one being 
present outside the family except Rev.. Alfred Cookman 
and himself. He sang song after song, the old white-haired 
man listening attentively. At last Mr. Phillips sang this 
piece, and at its close the old man asked, “‘Will you please 
sing that over again?” So the piece was repeated. When 
the stanza: . 


“T spent long years for thee 
In weariness and woe; 
. That one Eternity 
Of joy thou mightest know! 
I spent long years for thee, for thee! 
Hast thou spent one for me?” 


was finished he was weeping. ‘Let us pray,” said Mr. 


seem and at its close the old man gave himself to 
hrist. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 653 
No. 660. 
“PRAISE GOD FROM WHOM ALL BLESSINGS FLOW.” 


Tuomas Ken. 


One of the singular uses to which this doxology has been 
put was on the occasion of an important election in Ohio, 
October 15, 1884. On the evening of that day an immense 
crowd filled the street in New York City in front of the 
headquarters of the Republican Party, where the news as 
it was received over the wires was being given to them 
through a stereopticon. It was at two o’clock in the 
morning and the crowd was uproariously singing, “We 
won't go home ’till morning.” At this hour came the last 
message announcing the success of the party in the distant 
state, and immediately following it the stereopticon flashed 
out the line: 


“Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.” 
“Good Night!” 


A deep-toned man in the throng pitched the tune, and a 
mighty volume of song swelled upward as they sang the 
doxology to its close. Then the lights went out and the 
crowd dispersed to their homes. 


No. 661. 


“PRAYER IS THE SOUL’S SINCERE DESIRE.” 


JAMES MontTGOMERY. 


When the author of this hymn was eighty-three years of 
age, he conducted the family worship in the home where 
he lived, and it was noticed that he was especially fervent 


654 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


in prayer. Well might he have been so for it was the last 
time his voice was heard on earth. At the close of the 
prayer he retired to his room, where he was found the next 
day unconscious on the floor. He had had an apoplectic 
stroke sometime during the night, and died that afternoon. 
The incident is worth relating in connection with this hymn 
because it illustrates in the case of the poet himself the 
words of the stanza: 


“Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, 
The Christian’s native air, 

His watchword at the gates of death, 
He enters Heaven with prayer.” 


No. 662. 
“ROCK OF AGES, CLEFT FOR ME.” 


Rev. Augustus Topuapy. 


An American minister entered an Armenian church in 
Constantinople and joined them in their worship, although 
he understood not a word of what was said. During the 
singing of a hymn he noticed many of the people in tears, 
and was curious to know what hymn so affected them. 
Upon inquiry he found it was a Turkish translation of 
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me.” 


No. 663. 
“SAINTS OF GOD! THE DAWN IS BRIGHTENING.” 


Mrs. Mary MaxweE.u. 


In the year 1875, Rev. Sheldon Jackson, then Superintend- 
ent of Home Missions in the West under the Presbyterian 


’ 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 655 


Board wanted a “home mission hymn.” Not finding what 
he wanted among existing hymns, he offered two prizes, 
one of fifty dollars for a poem and one of a hundred dollars 
for a hymn. The offer was published in two hundred 
religious newspapers, and thus became widely known: Seven 
hundred pieces were offered in competition, and a committee 
consisting of Dr. 8. I. Prime of the New York Observer, 
Dr. Thomas 8. Hastings, and Rev. Edwin F. Hatfield, 
examined them. This hymn was chosen from the entire 
list as best adapted to use as a Home Missionary Hymn. 
It is an interesting incident that its author refused to accept 
the prize she had earned except upon the condition that 
her name should not be divulged, and so the hymn was 
made public as written by “A Lady of Virginia.” Eight 
or ten years later she permitted her name to be attached 
to it. 


No. 664. 
“TAKE ME, O MY FATHER, TAKE ME.” 


Rev. Ray PAuMEnr. 


A hymn that succeeds in bringing comfort and cheer to 
but a single life when comfort and cheer are needed has 
surely done a worthy work, and the author of this hymn 
knew to a certainty that this hymn yielded such result. 
An English lady had been very ill; too weak to speak or 
scarcely think, and during these weary hours the words of 
this hymn had been her comfort. When she recovered, so 
great was her sense of gratitude for the good she had received 
from them, that she took pains to write to Dr. Palmer, 
and to thank him for the service he had rendered her. 


656 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 665. 
“THE MORNING LIGHT IS BREAKING.” 


Rev. S. F. SMITH. 


It is not often given to one person to write a hymn which 
shall become the national hymn of a great people, and 
another which shall become the rallying song of a great — 
religious enterprise. Yet the author of this hymn has done 
it in the hymn: 


“My country, ’tis of thee.” 


and this one before us. It has been his privilege also, as 
he himself says, to hear it sung in five or six different 
languages in Europe and Asia. It is a favorite with the 
Burmans, Karens, and Telegus in Asia and among the 
Portuguese Protestants in their own country and in Brazil. 
It has also been translated into Siamese. So that it can 
fairly be said to be sung around the world. 


No. 666. 
“THERE IS A LAND IMMORTAL.” 


Tuomas MacKeEttuer. 


A boy in New York City at fourteeen years of age 
became a compositor on a weekly paper in that city. Soon 
after he entered the employment of the Harpers and became 
proofreader. While hard at work during the day, he spent 
his spare time at night in writing verses of one sort or 
another. He was poor and had much of the support of 
the family to provide. Later he went to Philadelphia and 
became proofreader in a type foundry there. By and by 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 657 | 


he was allowed to invest his little savings in buying a 
small interest in the business. And at last he became the 
head of the firm of MacKeller, Smiths, and Jordan, the 
great type founders of Philadelphia. He kept up his habit 
of writing poetry after his day’s work was over, and one 
evening while writing a piece for a friend, a fancy struck 
him of a religious nature. “I laid aside,” he says, “the 
work in hand and pursuing the new idea, I at once produced 
the hymn: 


“There is a land immortal.” 


No. 667. 


“THOU ART GONE TO THE GRAVE BUT WE WILL 
NOT DEPLORE THEE.” 


REGINALD HEBER. 


Written in December, 1818, in memory of an only child 
which died in that month, aged six months. Of this event 
Heber wrote, “I am myself more cut down than I thought 
I should be, but I hope not impatient. I do not forget 
that to have possessed her at all, and to have enjoyed the 
pleasure of looking at her and caressing her for six months 
was God’s free gift, and still less do I forget that “He who 
has taken her will at length, I hope, restore her to us.” 


No. 668. 
“UPWARD I LIFT MINE EYES,” 


Rev. Isaac WATTS. 


In 1777 (June 3), Rev. John Newton wrote to a friend 
“give my love to your friend. I dare not advise; but if she 


658 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


can quietly return at the usual time, and neither run in- 
tentionally into the way of the smallpox, nor out of the 
way, but leave it simply with the Lord, I shall not blame 
her. My prescription is to read Dr. Watts’ Psalm one 
hundred and twenty-one every morning before breakfast, 
and pray. over it till the cure is effected. 


‘Hast thou not given thy word 
To save my soul from death, 
And I can trust my Lord 
To keep my mortal breath? 
I'll go and come, 
Nor fear to die. 
Till from on high 
Thou call me home!’ ” 


This is the “Psalm one hundred and twenty-one,” which 
Dr. Newton advised the use of in case of smallpox. 


No. 669. 


“WE COME TO THE FOUNTAIN, WE STAND BY THE 
WAVE.” 


Rev. Geo. W. BETHUNE. 


This hymn is unique in that it is a hymn especially for 
use at the rite of baptism by immersion, and yet it was 
written by a minister of the Dutch Reformed Church, who 
was thoroughly antagonistic to the peculiar doctrine of 
immersion. It is not a little strange, too, that it was 
written at the request of a Baptist clergyman, Rev. J. S. 
Holmes, who wanted it for the “Baptist Hymn and Tune 
Book” of which he was the editor. -Referring to the request 
that had been made of him Dr. Bethune said, “I have the 
vanity to think that I can write a better hymn of that 
kind than any that I have seen in their collections.” And 
this is the hymn he wrote. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 659 
No. 670. 
“THERE IS A HAPPY LAND, FAR, FAR AWAY.” 


ANDREW YOUNG. 


The author of this hymn tells its origin as follows: He 
was spending the evening at a house where the lady and 
her family were musical. “After tea, the lady of whom 
I speak, played, among other pieces of music, one which 
was entitled, ‘The Siege of Delhi’ (Clive’s, not Clyde’s 
siege). As is well known, in that selection there occurs 
a very sweet air—soft, pathetic, and yet with an influence 
that stirs while it enamours the sense. My friend played 
it so beautifully that I requested a repetition of it and 
after that begged for another repetition, and yet another, 
until I would for some time have nothing else played. My 
soul was won by its charm and rapture, and I was for the 
time being, like ‘one beside himself,’ as if carried away to 
another world of being by some potent and mysterious in- 
fluence. Leaving the house shortly afterward, and still in 
an excited state of feeling, I was filled with but one strong 
controlling desire, viz., to write words appropriate, as far 
as possible (for I had the rhythmic faculty), to the highly 
devotional suggestiveness of the music. During the entire 
night my heart throbbed with a strange emotion; thoughts 
thronged my brain; words began to take a melodious flow, 
and in the early morning hours my first act was to sit 
down and write the words of a hymn, identical almost in 
every particular with those now composing it. 

“That was fifty years ago, and yet, even now, I feel, 
notwithstanding that long intervening lapse of time, with 
its many experiences, as if the inspiration with which 
Divine Providence was pleased to bless me on that memor- 
able occasion (for I at. least can never forget it) had 
occurred only yesterday. For if ever there was an in- 
breathing in a human soul of a heaven-born inspiration, 


660 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


I am as certain as I live that it was when I wrote the 
words of ‘The Happy Land.’ Little remains to be told. 
Of the composer of the soul-captivating air, I have never 
been able to learn anything. Some persons in writing 
lately on the subject of the hymn have spoken of the air 
referred to as being an old Indian melody, one that possibly 
had been heard in the Indian ‘forest primeval,’ many and 
many a year ago. I do not think anything of the kind. 
The music of the ‘Siege of Delhi’ is probably not more 
than seventy or eighty years old, and very likely the work 
of a British composer. But whoever the writer of it was, 
I would gladly give something to know and to express my 
very great acknowledgment for its blessed inspiration.” 


No. 671 


“IT REMEMBER A VOICE WHICH ONCE GUIDED MY 
WAY.” 


“COME THIS WAY, MY FATHER.” 


Hon. A. W. WILDEs. 


The little song “Come this way, my Father,” was writ- 
ten by me during a season of great affliction occasioned by 
the loss of my darling little Frank (the hero of the story). 
The narrative and song were first published in the Water- 
ville Mail in the year 1850. The scene of the occurrence 
was Boothbay, a little harbor about fifteen miles east of 
Bath, Maine. i 

During a short visit to the seashore of our state, some 
two years since, with a party of friends, it was proposed 
one bright afternoon that we should make up a party and go 
down the harbor on a fishing excursion. 

We accordingly started, and after sailing about three 
miles, a young lady of the company declined going fur- 


) 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 661 


ther, and requested us to land her on one of the small 
islands in the harbor, where she proposed to stay until 
our return. My little boy, then about four years old, pre- 
ferred remaining with her. Accordingly we left them and 
proceeded some six miles further. We remained out much 
longer than we intended, and as night approached a thick 
fog set in from the sea, entirely enshrouding us. Without 
compass, and not knowing the right way to steer, we groped 
our way along for some hours, until we discovered the 
breaking of the surf on the rocks of one of the islands, but 
were at a loss to know which one of them. I stood up in 
the stern of the boat, where I had been steering, and 
shouted with all my strength. I listened a moment, and 
heard through the thick fog and above the breaking of 
the surf, the sweet voice of my boy calling, “Come this 
way, father—steer straight for me—I’m waiting for you!” 
We steered by that sound, and soon my little boy leaped to 
my arms with joy, saying, “I knew you would hear me, 
father!” and nestled to sleep on my bosom. The child 
and the maiden are both sleeping now. They died in two 
short weeks after the period I refer to, with hardly an in- 
terval of time between their deaths. Now, when tossed 
upon the rough sea of life, without compass or guide, 
enveloped in fog and surrounded by rocks, I seem to hear 
the sound of that cherub voice calling from the bright 
shore, “Come this way, father!—steer straight for me!” 
When oppressed with sadness, I take my way to our quiet 
cemetery, and still, as I stand by one little mound, the 
same musical voice echoes from thence, “Come this way, 
my father! I’m waiting for thee!” With this I enclose 
a correct copy of the song. 
Yours very truly, 
A. W. WILDEs. 
I remember a voice 
Which once guided my way, 
When lost on the sea, 
Fog-enshrouded I lay; 


662 


STORIES OF THE GREAT 


’Twas the voice of a child, 
As he stood on the shore— 
It sounded out clear 
O’er the dark billows’ roar, 
“Come this way, my father! 
Steer straight for me, 
Here safe on the shore 
I am waiting for thee.” 


I remember that voice, 
As it led our lone way, 
*Midst rocks and through breakers 
And high dashing spray; 
How sweet to my heart 
Did it sound from the shore, 
As it echoed out clear 
O’er the dark billows’ roar. 
“Come this way, my father, 
Steer straight for me, 
Here safe on the shore 
I am waiting for thee.” 


I remember my joy _ 

When I held to my breast 
The form of that dear one, 
And soothed it to rest; 
For the tones of my child 

Whispered soft to my ear, 
“T called you, dear father, 

I knew you would hear 
The voice of your darling, 
Far o’er the dark sea, 

While safe on the shore 
I was waiting for thee.” 


That voice now is hushed 
Which then guided my way, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 663 


The form I then pressed 
Is now mingling with clay; 
But. the tones of my child 
' Still sound in my ear, 
“T am calling you, father! 
O can you not hear 
The voice of your darling, 
As you toss on life’s sea, 
For on a bright shore 
I am waiting for thee.” 


I remember that voice— 

In many a lone hour 
It speaks to my heart 

With fresh beauty and power, 
And still echoes far out 

Over life’s troubled wave, 
And sounds from the loved lips 

That he in the grave, 

“Come this way, my father! 

O steer straight for me! 
Here safely in heaven 

I am waiting for thee!” 


No. 672. 


“GIVE TO THE WINDS THY FEARS.” 
“COMMIT THOU ALL THY GRIEFS.” 


PauL GERHARDT. 


Not far from the town of Warsaw in Poland, there still 
is standing a peasant’s house, which has above its door an 
iron tablet upon which appears the figure of a raven with a 
ring in its beak and underneath it in the German language 
the first four lines of this hymn. To account for this 


664 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


iron , late, with its raven, and its ring, and its inscription 
a wonderful story must be told. 

There lived near by at one time a German peasant named 
Dobry. He had not been able to pay his rent, and the 
landlord had threatened to eject him from his house. It 
was in the dead of winter, and the poor peasant had thrice 
appealed for mercy, but in vain. The next day he and 
his wife and little ones were to be turned out into the cold 
and the snow. But Dobry did not lose courage or hope. 
If man would not show mercy, God would, and gathering 
his family about him he kneeled and prayed for help from 
the God of the poor, and when the prayer was ended, they 
began to sing together this hymn. 

At one of the pauses between the stanzas, a tapping on 
the window was heard. Dobry ran and opened it, and a 
tame raven which had been trained by Dobry’s grand- 
father and then set at liberty, hopped in, bearing in its 
beak a jeweled ring. This was identified as one that had 
been lost by the King, who rewarded Dobry handsomely 
for returning it, and later built for him a house for his 
own, and put this iron plate above the door. 


No. 673. 
“JUST AS I AM, WITHOUT ONE PLEA.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. 


A little street waif once entered the office of a New 
York City missionary and-held up a torn and dirty piece 
of paper. ‘Please, sir,” said the boy, “father sent me to 
get a clean paper like this.” It was a copy of this hymn, 
and the father wanted a clean one like it, because his little 
girl, sister of the boy whom he had sent, liked it and used 
to sing it while she lived, and when she died they had 
found this dirty, worn copy of it in her pocket, and now 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 665 


in memory of the dead child he wanted a clean copy to 
frame and hang up in his room. 


No. 674. 
JOHN Berrince, 1716—1793. 


One of the most eccentric and at the same time earnest 
men who ever lived became a vicar of the Church of Eng- 
land. He would never limit himself to any parish but in 
spite of bishops he went far and wide over England preach- 
ing in churches if permitted, if not, in barns or fields. The 
formal, worldly men he met whether clergy or laity were 
rebuked by him without stint and they called him “The 
old devil.” 

Once when riding in a section where he was not known 
to preach, he was accosted by a stranger riding along the 
same road, and as they talked the stranger said, “Do you 
know Berridge? They tell me he is a troublesome, good- 
for-nothing fellow.” 

“Yes, I know him,” was Berridge’s reply. “And I assure 
you half his wickedness has not been told.” 

And when they reached the place where Berridge was 
to preach, the stranger went into a pew and was astounded 
in a few moments to see his traveling companion step into 
the pulpit. “Is it possible,” he cried, at the close of the 
service, “Can you forgive me; will you admit me to your 
house?” 

“Yes, and to my heart,” was the bluff reply. 

He never married, and he gives the reason. He prayed 
about it and asked God for a sign; then he opened the 
Bible to see what verse his eye should light on first. The 
first verse he saw said nothing applicable to the subject 
in hand, but the second time he tried it he struck the 
plain command, “Thou shalt not take to thee a wife,” and 
he didn’t. But these are only the eccentric characteristics 


666 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
of the man. He was full of courage and cheerfulness all — 
his life long, and when he came to die and someone said to 
him, “The Lord has enabled you to fight a good fight.” 

“Blessed be His name for it,” was the answer. 

“He will soon call you up higher.” 

“Ay, Ay,” was the reply, “higher! higher! higher!” 


No. 675. 
“BLESSING, HONOR, THANKS AND PRAISE.” 


Rey. CHARLES WESLEY. 


The Wesley brothers, who together founded the great 
Methodist Church and gave to the Church Universal a 
splendid legacy of song, came by their love of hymns and 
singing by inheritance. When John was a puny child he 
and a hymn were almost the only things saved from the 
burning parsonage. And the last words of the mother of 
the Wesleys were, “Children, as soon as I am released, sing 
a Psalm of praise to God.” The children obeyed their 
mother’s injunction by singing this hymn, and they kept 
on singing hymns, until they joined her in heaven. 


No. 676. 
“NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE.” 


Mrs. 8S. F. Apams. 


A writer in the Sunday School Times, tells the following 
incident concerning this hymn! 

“You never knew our neighbor, Mrs. G—— so I must 
tell you of her in the first place. She was one of the most 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 667 


lovable women I ever knew—always cheerful and sym- 
pathetic. Although she never seemed to realize it, she 
was the leading spirit in all our Christian efforts, inspiring 
us all with her bright sunny ways. Mr. G was just 
such a husband as you would wish such a woman to have. 
A lovely daughter, two promising boys, and a little curly- 
headed tot, the pet of all, completed the happiest home 
circle it has been my good fortune to enter. In the spring 
of that year, Mrs. G had a severe illness. After many 
weeks of suffering, she rose from her sick bed, but with 
the loss of her reason. The woman we had so admired 
and honored was a complete wreck, henceforth to be a 
burden in the home she had before made so happy. 

“T knew Mr. G to be a man of deepest piety. Often 
I had heard him, in our prayer-meetings, thank God for ‘a 
religion that could comfort us in the darkest hours of 
trial.’ My own religious experience was quite limited then, 
and I confess I was wondering whether he found grace 
sufficient to support him under this terrible blow—whether 
he could say, ‘As for God, His way is perfect.’ 

“When the evening came for the next prayer meeting, 
he was at his post as usual. His face was pale, but other- 
wise calm, even peaceful. He had always led the congre- 
gation in singing; and when the meeting had progressed a 
little, our pastor, who was leading, asked him to start 
‘Nearer, my God, to Thee.’ From the first words, the old 
hymn I had known from my childhood began to take on a 
new meaning. I had thought it a beautiful conception, and 
I liked the music; but tonight it was the impassioned out~ 
pouring of a soul filled with intensest longing for God, as 
the weary, benighted, storm-driven traveler longs for home. 
The song was soon a solo. Every heart in the little con- 
gregation was stirred. Tears choked our utterance and 
blinded our eyes. The singer seemed unconscious that he 
sang alone, or that he had any hearers save God. What 
infinite pathos he threw into the pleading, 











668 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


‘There let the way appear 
Steps unto heaven: 
All that Thou sendest me, 
In mercy given: 
Angels to beckon me 
Nearer, my God, to Thee! 
Nearer to Thee.’ 


“It was not a pleading that the afflicting hand might be 
removed, but for a faith that could pierce the gloom and 
recognize it as the hand of love. Even while he asked the 
answer came. A note of victory shook the air as he 
sang: 


‘Out of my stony griefs 
Bethel I’ll raise; 

So by my woes to be 

Nearer, my God, to Thee! 
Nearer to Thee!” 


“T felt certain that he had had an experience like that of 
Moses on Sinai, for his face shone; and we knew that the 
most joyous man among us that night was he over whose 
home there hung so dark a pall of misery.” 


No. 677. 
“ALL HAIL THE POWER OF JESUS’ NAME.” 


Rey. E. Prrronet. 


It was Sunday; we were marching to our first battle. 
We waded through miles,of sand and numberless streams. 
Overcome by the heat, men dropped from the ranks, and 
even horses fell out by the way. To nerve the heart and 
quicken the step we sang the stirring army songs. At last 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 669 


the cannons were heard in our front, and we knew the 
vedettes were at work. We soon smelt powder, and 
thought of home. We soon were foot-weary and exhausted, 
and the power of song was exhausted too. Suddenly the 
colonel rode up to us, in company with the general, and 
exclaimed: “For Heaven’s sake, give them something to 
cheer them on!” Instantly that grand old hymn, “Corona- 
tion,’ came to our minds: 


“All hail the power of Jesus’ name! 
Let angels prostrate fall; 

Bring forth the royal diadem, 
And crown Him Lord of all.” 


We sent it forth, and it flew up and down that extended 
column until the whole army was inspired by the hymn. 
The boys sped onward to battle as if charged by a thousand 
galvanic batteries; and while the heavens were ringing with 
song, the God of nations seemed calling unto his angels to 
descend and lead us on to victory. At midnight the enemy 
had fled; and as I lay with my head pillowed on my gun- 
stock, the full, round moon looked down upon the living 
and the dead, seeming to say to us: “The song for the 
church is the song for the army.” 


No. 678. 
“THERE IS A SPOT TO ME MORE DFAR.” 


Rev. Wm. Hunter. 


At one of the Pittsburgh Conference love feasts the 
eloquent and gifted James G. Sansom, for forty-two years 
an earnest and faithful Methodist preacher, narrated the 
circumstances of his conversion in such a graphic and 
effective manner that it electrified the entire congregation, 


670 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and left a profound impression on all hearts. Dr. Hunter 
was present and heard the recital, and while Sansom’s 
pathetic tones were still lingering in his memory he trans- 
lated the experience into verse. The hymn thus originated 
became at once a great favorite, and was widely and fre- 
quently sung by the Methodists of the time. It was gen- 
erally known as “Sansom’s Hymn,” and appeared in the 
“Minstrel of Zion” set to a tune called “Sansom.” As both 
the singer and the song have now passed away, and as the © 
hymn is not readily accessible to all, I venture to reproduce 
it in its entirety, and add that it is not only a fair speci- 
men of Dr. Hunter’s powers of versification, but it remains 
as a tribute to the memory of one of the most faithful, 
eloquent, and genial Christian ministers Methodism has 
ever given to the world. The hymn reads: 


“There is a spot to me more dear 
Than native vale or mountain, 

A spot for which affection’s tear 
Springs grateful from its fountain. 

’Tis not where kindred souls abound, 
Though that is almost heaven, 

But where I first my Savior found, 
And felt my sins forgiven. 


“Hard was my toil to reach the shore, 
Long tossed upon the ocean; 

Above me was the thunder’s roar, 
Beneath, the wave’s commotion; 
Darkly the pall of night was thrown 

Around me, faint with terror; 
In that dark hour how did my groan 
Ascend for years of error. 


“Sinking and panting, as for breath, 
I knew not help was near me; 

And cried, ‘O save me, Lord, from death! 
Immortal Jesus, hear me!’ 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 671 


Then quick as thought I felt Him mine, 
My Savior stood before me; 

I saw His brightness round me shine, 
And shouted ‘Glory! glory!’ 


“O sacred hour! O hallowed spot! 
Where love divine first found me; 

Wherever falls my distant lot, 
My heart shall linger round thee: 

And when from earth I rise to soar 
Up to my home in heaven, 

Down will I cast my eyes once more 
Where I was first forgiven.” 


No. 679. 
“SOFTLY AND TENDERLY, JESUS IS CALLING.” 


An accident occurred to the engine of a train running 
through the mountains of Tennessee and the passengers 
were delayed at a little village hotel, while the damage 
was being repaired. A lady and a gentleman among the 
passengers were shown into the little dismal parlor, in one 
corner of which stood an old-fashioned piano badly out of 
tune. The only other occupant of the room was an old 
lady, who was evidently a boarder there. Outside it was 
dark and rainy, but this did not seem to interfere with the 
comfort of a group of loafers who smoked under the parlor 
window. To pass away the time the young lady sat down 
to the piano, and after playing a waltz or two, struck into 
“Old Hundred.” At this the old lady came over to the 
piano and spoke. 

“T was thinking, my dear” she said hesitatingly, “that 
if you could sing a little mite, just some old hymn or some- 
thing it would seem real good. Who knows but it would 
help them poor boys out there? They’re most likely away 


672 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


from their homes and their mothers, and it ain’t probable 
they hear much good music—The Lord’s music, you know.” 

After some hesitation the young lady consented, and to- 
gether they sang hymn after hymn, the old lady listening 
with evident delight. Outside the men laid down their 
pipes and all conversation stopped that they might the 
better hear. By and by the young lady sang alone: 


“Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling, 

Calling for you and for me! 

See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching, 
Watching for you and for me. 

Come home! Come home! ye who are weary 

Come home! 

Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling, 

Calling, O Sinner, come home!” 


’ As the last sweet strain died away one young man on 
the outside, with a face better than that of most of those 
about him, stealthily brushed away a tear. Just then the 
message came that the train was ready and the singers went 
on their way. Several years later this same gentleman 
stood in a little group of men who were listening to the 
words of an evangelist and gospel singer, who had just 
been singing to an audience the words of this very song. 
When he had finished he turned to the group and said, “I 
remember well the first time I heard that hymn. It was 
in a little hotel in the mountains of Tennessee, where I 
had been squandering my substance, a real Prodigal Son. 
There came one afternoon a little company of people who 
were delayed by an accident to the train, and one or two 
of them began singing around the piano. The lady’s voice 
I shall never forget. She sang one of my mother’s old 
hymns and then this one ‘Come home.’ Wherever I went 
the next few days, I seemed to hear that voice saying, 
‘Come home’—and the end of it was I came.” 

“Not the end, sir,” said the astonished gentleman. And 








HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 673 


then he told him his part of the story and how the white- 
haired old lady had prompted the singing, and her thought 
that it might do some of the boys on the outside good. 


No. 680. 
“THE BEST FIFTY AMERICAN HYMNS.” 


In 1889 The Observer of New York offered a prize of 
fifty dollars for the list of fifty hymns by American au- 
thors most nearly conforming to the general verdict of all 
the competitors. Six hundred and ninety-nine lists were 
received, but two hundred and seventy-three of them had 
to be rejected because of some imperfection so that four 
hundred and twenty-six lists competed. The fifty hymns 
receiving the highest number of votes are given below 
with their standing in the list and the number of votes 
each received, 





1. “My faith looks up to Thee.”—Ray Paumer.... 417 
2. “One sweetly, solemn thought.’”—Puorsr Cary 407 
3 “My country ’tis of thee.’—S. F. Smiry........ 380 
4. “Stand up, stand up for Jesus.,.—G. Durrietp.. 380 
5. “Softly now the light of day.”"—G. W. Doang.... 373 
6. “I love thy kingdom Lord.”—T. Dwicur........ 373 
7. “More love to Thee, O Christ.”—E. Prentiss.... 367 
8. “I love to steal awhile away.”—Puorse H. Brown 349 
9. “I would not live alway.”,—-WM. A. MuHLENBERG. 335 
10. “Gently, Lord, oh! gently lead us.’”—T. Hastines, 321 
11. “The morning light is breaking.”—S. F. SmirnH.. 302 

12. “There is &n hour of peaceful rest.”—W. B. 
TAPPANe rane coe i... . ts Ca 266 

13. “’Tis midnight; and on Olive’s brow.’”—W. B. 
TAPPANDE ee eee... RO wel: 262 
14. “Thou art the Way, to Thee alone.”—G. W.DoaNng 250 


15. “It came upon the midnight clear.”—E. H. Spars 238 


674 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
16. “Hail to the brightness of Zion’s glad morning.” — 


Tac HASTINGS 5 .°s%« 2061 t. a ee ietelante bith: SsrAaetaiey se 
17. “O Love divine, that stooped to share.”—O. W. 
HouMES.. 3) sss) o Seo Seales ing else pee 
18. “Savior, Thy dying love.”—S. D. PHELPS...... 
19. “He leadeth me, oh blessed thought.”—J. H. 
(GFL MORE oi biniae: Gi ewer pte ae Soe a eagles eae 
20. “Shout the glad tidings, exultingly sing.”—W. A. 
MGHEEN BEB Gietics Aascaennsiavchccyl s Peaxionslatp uns eheiatss fee 


21. “Calm on the listening ear of night.”—E. H. Sears 
22. “Jesus, these eyes have never seen.” —Ray PALMER 
23. “Like Noah’s weary dove.”—W. A. MUHLENBERG 
24. “Blessed Savior, Thee I love.”—G. DUFFIELD... 
25. “The Spirit in our hearts.” —H. U. ONDERDONK. . 
26. “Lord of all being, throned afar.”—O. W. HotMEs 
27. “Lord; I am Thine, entirely Thine.”—S. Daviss.. 
28. “Shall we gather at the river.”—R. Lowry....... 
29. “Pass me not, O gentle Savior.”—F. J. Crossy. 
30. “Savior, who Thy flock art feeding.”—W. A. 

Grete BEG Wie 20 Wie nc -sia.)0 we soaks fee o's tone waebayees 
31. “Safe in the arms of Jesus.”—F. J. CrosBy...... 
32. “How calm and beautiful the morn.”—T. Hastines 
33. “Jesus, keep me near the cross.”—F. J. Crossy.. 
34. “He that goeth forth with weeping.” —T. Hastines 
35. “Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee.”— 

Silin Kreya iaree watids: bal goblets oi vette ayaa 
36. “My days are gliding swiftly by.”—D. NELson.. 
37. “Delay not, delay not, oh sinner draw near.”— 


The FASHENGS 4 og Jf% eet aie ces de eee OL 
38. “Oh! where are kings and empires now?’—A. C. 
Goxne..'T. At tisgesd «i. sintearteee eer ae 
39. “To-day, the Savior calls..—T. Hasrines...... 


40. “O God, beneath Thy guiding hand.”—L. Bacon 
41. “Softly fades the twilight ray.”—S. F. SmirnH.... 
42. “How beauteous were the marks divine.”—A. C, 

GOD) f 6  . Sots slid ee 
43. “Blest Comforter Divine.”—L. H. SIGoURNEY.... 





217 


200 








HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 675 


44. “Almost persuaded now to believe.’—P. P. Buiss 134 
45. “The day is past and gone. The evening.”— J. 


SLBUAND Haze. Gia biiyoclsicf ds VEEL eS aromas har edag , 134 

46. “I need Thee every hour.”—A. 8S. HAWKEs..... 2 130 
47. “Knocking, knocking, who is there?’—H. B. 

DIREC Es Se, SF ae en ERP PO MER ERE fn | 127 


48. “Take me, oh my Father, take me.”—Ray PALMER 126 
49. “Come, Jesus Redeemer, abide Thou with me.”— 


Uk SBTC Tc A ee a san cia eso voy o, 3 + oR dl oe cat eee 124 
50. “We may not climb the heavenly steeps.”— J. G. 
VVC ETT ER Mercia were ai ciie ss cress o> « « o gratia utepatene 123 
No. 681. 


“JESUS, MY LORD, TO THEE I CRY.” 


EuizA H. Hamiuton. 


Right in the track of the terrible tornado that devastated 
a considerable part of Louisville on the night of Thursday, 
March 27, 1890, was one of the Mission Sunday schools 
conducted by students of the Southern Baptist Theological 
Seminary. Ten of the scholars in this school were killed 
in the storm, several of them at their homes. In the fated 
“Falls City Hail,” where many children were gathered in 
some festivity, and where several lodges were in session 
and most of the loss of life occurred, two of the children 
of our school were caught by the falling timbers and walls, 
and though not seriously hurt were imprisoned, so as to 
see no way of escape. The little girls thought their end 
had come, and their minds reverted to the Sunday school 
songs they had learned, and they began to sing, with their 
weak and tremulous voices, the hymn “Take me as I am,” 
composed by Eliza H. Hamilton, and set to music by Ira 
D. Sankey. Amid the roar of the tornado and the thunder 
and lightning that accompanied it, their little voices 


676 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


sounded through the ruins of the building, where some 
scores of others had been instantly crushed to death. They 
sang what seemed singularly appropriate and touching: 
“Jesus, my Lord, to Thee I cry, 
Unless Thou help me I must die; 
Oh, bring Thy free salvation nigh, 
And take me as I am. 


“No preparation can I make, 
My best resolves I only break, 
Yet save me for Thine own name’s sake, 
And take me as I am. 


“Behold me, Savior, at Thy feet, 
Deal with me as Thou seest meet; 
Thy work begin, Thy work complete, 
And save me as I am.” 


I think I shall never sing that song again without think- 
ing of those little girls shut in by the ruins, and finding 
their only consolation in the lessons and songs they had 
learned at the mission Sunday school. 


No. 682. 
“MERCY AND JUDGMENT ARE MY SONG.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts. 


At a Fourth of July celebration in Westfield Connecticut, 
1846, the Rev. Mr. Waldo, a Revolutionary veteran, was 
present, and at the dinner table told the following incident: 

He remarked that there was a single incident ae came 
within his personal knowledge, which he believed was not 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 677 


generally known. It was that Washington, on the day that 
he assumed the command of the American Army at Cam- 
bridge, read and. caused to be sung the one hundred and 
first Psalm, a portion of which is published: 


“Tf I am raised to bear the sword, 
I'll take my counsel from Thy word; 
Thy justice and Thy heavenly grace 
Shall be the pattern of my ways. 


. “No sons of slander, rage and strife, 
Shall be companions of my life; 
The haughty look, the heart of pride, 
Within my doors shall ne’er abide. 


“T’ll search the land and raise the just 
To posts of honor, wealth, and trust; 
The men that work Thy holy will, 

Shall be my friends and favorites still. 


“Tn vain shall sinners hope to rise 
By flattering or malicious lies; 
Nor while the innocent I guard, 
Shall bold offenders e’er be spared. 


“The impious crew (that factious band), 
Shall hide their heads or quit the land, 
And all that break the public rest, 
Where I have power, shall be suppressed.” 


This Psalm the reverend worthy deacon lined off to the 
company in true primitive style, a line at a time, which was 
sung to the tune of “Old Hundred” that tune being, as the 
old veteran said, “just the thing for it.” 


678 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 688. 
“THE LORD’S MY SHEPHERD, ’LL NOT WANT.” 
FRANCIS Rowse. 


One of the English ladies who went to the Crimea with 
Florence Nightingale to nurse the sick and wounded 
soldiers, found in a Scutari hospital a Highlander near 
death, and yet hard against God. She spoke to him, but he 
would make no answer. He even drew the sheet up over 
his head to keep her from speaking to him again. The 
next time she went through that ward he saw her coming 
toward his cot, and he covered his face again. Seating 
herself beside the bed, she began to repeat, in a low, kind 
voice, the Nursery Psalm: 


“The Lord’s my Shepherd, Ill not want, 
He makes me down to lie 
In pastures green. He leadeth me 
The quiet waters by.” 


She noticed that before the psalm was finished, his hand 
went up to his eyes under the sheet. The next time she 


came, he was quite ready to listen to what she had to say - 


of Jesus and His love. He gave his heart to the Lord, and 
five days later he died in great peace. 

The Nursery Psalm was used to touch a chord that was 
not quite paralyzed by his bitter enmity against God. It 
was “mony a weary mile” from his mother’s knee in the 
Highland cottage where, with her loving hand on his bonny, 
bright head, she had taught him the dear old psalm, to the 
Crimean hospital, where a rough, hardened soldier, he lay 
dying; yet the mother’s love, like Christ’s tenderness, 
reached all the way, and drew him back to God. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 679 


No. 684. 
“JOHN BROWN’S BODY” (Tune). 


The tune of “John Brown’s Body” had its origin before 
the words that are now known or remembered in connection 
with it. It was sung before the War of the Rebellion, as 
long ago, at least, as 1856, to words which do not now 
remain in use, at certain New England camp meetings and 
revival services. Two members of the Boston tihilitia com- 
pany called the “Tigers,” happening to be at a camp meet- 
ing in a small town in New Hampshire, heard the song 
sung to religious words, and remembered the air. The name 
of one of these men was Purington, and of the other John 
Brown. Not long after this the war broke out, and the 
“Tigers” were made a part of the Twelfth Massachusetts 
Regiment of Volunteers, which rendezvoused at Fort 
Warren, in Boston Harbor. Here the two men already 

named, Purington and Brown, formed, with two others, 
named ‘Edger ly and Greenleaf, a quartette, and the quartette 
sang, among its other songs, all sorts of words of their own 
“getting up” to this tune. 

John Brown was a good-natured Scotchman, and the 
members of the quartette say they sang “John Brown this 
and John Brown that” to the tune, until, by an almost un- 
conscious change, the hero of them was changed from John 
Brown, of the “Tigers” to John Brown, of Harper’s Ferry, 
and the grand and simple verse came into existence: 


“John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the ground 
But his soul is marching on.” 


Before this time the masses of the North had not been in 
exact sympathy with the purposes of John Brown, but the 
excitement of the early days of the war called out a senti- 
ment which these words exactly fitted. Whenever the 
soldier quartette were in Boston they were called upon to 
sing this song. The Twelfth Regiment took it up. Samuel 


680 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


C. Perkins, of Brockton, a member of Maitland’s Band, 
which was stationed with the Regiment at Fort Warren, 
wrote down the air while a soldier whistled it. Then the 
band played it every day. When Edward Everett formally 
presented the set of colors of the Twelfth Regiment on 
Boston Common, the speech of acceptance being made by 
Colonel Fletcher Webster of the Regiment, the tune was 
played, and the multitude fairly went mad over it. The 
band played the tune going up State Street in June, 1861, 
and the soldiers sang it as they marched along. The crowd 
along the sidewalk took up the air and joined in the chorus: 


“Glory, glory, hallelujah, 
His soul is marching on!” 


Soon after the regiment sang it in marching through New 
York on the way to Baltimore, with the same effect. It 
spread at once through the army and throughout the coun- 
try, and became the anthem of the Union. In December, 
1861, Mrs. Julia Ward Howe wrote for the air the words 
beginning, 


“Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the 
Lord.” 


which was called “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” 
and soon became immensely popular, but never sup- 
planted in common use the old, simple words. This is the 
story of the origin of “John Brown’s Body,” as told by the 
members of the band and the regiment with which it had its 
use as a popular song. 


No. 685. 
“JESUS, I MY CROSS HAVE TAKEN.” 
Rev. H. F. Lyrts. 


At a large assembly, a Sunday school anniversary, it was 
found that the speakers expected had failed, and none 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH ~ 681 


was ready to take their places. After some Singing the 
meeting became dull, and the interest seemed to be dying 
out. The superintendent, who had set his heart on success, 
was anxious, and at a loss what to do, but finally gave a 
general invitation to the scholars to repeat any texts or 
hymns they had learned. He was pleasantly answered, but 
only for a short time. A stranger on the platform had noticed 
on the front seat a boy of Jewish caste, with piercing eyes, 
and wondered why he was there. In the midst of deep 
silence he arose and repeated: 


“Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave and follow Thee; 
Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, 
Thou, from hence, my all shalt be’— 


in a voice so thrilling as to move the whole audience. Many 
eyes were moist, for the story of the young Jew was known. 
The father had told him he must either leave Sunday school 
or quit home forever, and the hymn showed what he had 
given up to follow Christ. The meeting was inspired with 
new life. Friends gathered round him at the close, and 
business men united in securing him a situation by which 
he could earn his own living. 


No. 686. 
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES, THE SPIRIT GRIEVES.” 


Mrs. Lucy E. AKERMAN, 1816—1874. 


This hymn was suggested by a sermon by Moncure D. 
Conway from the text, Mark 11:13. “And when He came 
to it He found nothing but leaves.” 

A man heard Mr. Sankey sing the melody “Nothing but 
leaves.” The words “nothing but leaves” stuck to him, so 


682 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


he committed the hymn to memory and sang it to himself 
when he was alone, or as he walked the busy streets. And 
what was the result? He said that every line and every 
word told him undeniable truths that went straight to his 
heart. He overhauled his whole life—over fifty years— 
and he said, “I could not find a single ear of good grain; 
nothing but leaves, withered leaves!” And that thought 
led him to seek the Lord until he found peace in Him, and 
then bore living fruit for Jesus. 


No. 687. 
“THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.” 
SAMUEL WoopwoRrTH. 


Woodworth was a printer, and intemperate. He was in 
the habit of dropping into the liquor saloon kept by a man 
by the name of Mallory. One day after drinking a glass 
of brandy and water, he smacked his lips and declared that 
Mallory’s brandy was superior to any drink he had ever 
tasted. 

“No” said Mallory, “you are mistaken; there was a drink 
which we both once thought was far ahead of this.” 

“What was it?” asked Woodworth. 

“The fresh water we used to drink out of the old oak 
bucket that hung in the well, when we came in from the 
field on a sultry day.” 

“True,” cried Woodworth, and a tear stood on his cheek 
as he said it. Going to his printing office he seated himself 
at a desk, and began to write: 


“How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 683 
No. 688. 
“THE SONG OF THE SHIRT.” 


Tuomas Hoop. 


Tom Hood was prompted to write this song by the condi- 
tion of thousands of working women in the city of London. 
It was the work of a single evening. He handed it to his 
wife to read. 

“Now mind Tom, mind my words,” said she, “this will 
tell wonderfully. It is one of the best things you ever did.” 

Awhile after Mark Lemon, Editor of London Punch, 
found a letter in his morning mail, enclosing a poem, and 
a letter from its author, saying that the poem enclosed had 
been rejected by three London journals, and asked him not 
to return it but to throw it into the wastebasket if he did 
not think it worth using, as he was sick of the sight of it. 
It was this same “Song of the Shirt.” Mr. Lemon liked 
it although some of his co-editors did not, and it was pub- 
lished in Punch, December 16, 1843. It created a great 
sensation. It trebled the sale of the paper. People of 
every class were moved by it. It was sung on the streets 
and in palaces. And when Tom Hood died a monument was 
placed above his grave, paid for by a great popular sub- 
scription on which was placed an inscription he himself had 
desired, ‘‘He sang the Song of the Shirt.” 


No. 689. 
“ABIDE WITH ME, FAST FALLS THE EVENTIDE.” 


Rev. H. F. Lyte. 


A young man left his home in the country and came to 
New York City, where he fell into temptation and ere long 


684 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was far on the road to ruin. One evening as he passed along 
the street on his way to join his vicious companions, he 
heard the sound of singing and caught the words: 


“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide, 
The darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.” 


He stopped as suddenly as if arrested by the hand of God, 
for these were the words and this was the song his mother 
sang to him every night, as she put him to bed, and her 
image and all the sweet memories of his childhood’s home 
came rushing into his mind. He turned back and entered 
the church from which the music came, found different 
friends and companions there and became a Christian. 


No. 690. 
FOR A SEASON CALLED TO PART.” 


Rev. Joun NEwTon. 


It is doubtful if ever a more intimate friendship or close 
affection existed between pastor and people, than that which 
grew up between John Newton and his church at Olney. 
The Olney hymn book which has become celebrated in 
hymnology consisted of the hymns which week after week 
Newton and Cowper had prepared for use in the weekly 
prayer meeting of his people, and this hymn is a good 
illustration of the way in which they made common lot of 
the experiences of their lives. In the year 1776, Newton 
was the victim of a tumor on his thigh and in November 
of that year he decided to go to London to undergo a sur- 
gical operation for its removal. This was before the day of 
aneesthetics and the operation would be painful, and pos- 
sibly fatal. So at the prayer meeting before his departure 
this hymn written for the occasion was read and sung 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 685 


together by pastor and people. The knowledge of these 
circumstances under which it was written will interpret to 
us its words. The hymn beginning ‘“‘As the sun’s enlivening 
eye,” is the same hymn. 


No. 691. 
“COME O MY SOUL! IN SACRED LAYS.” 


Rev. THomas BLAcKLOcK. 


This hymn is a specimen of what can be accomplished in 
spite of great obstacles. A Scotch boy was stricken with 
smallpox when six months old, from which he recovered 
only with the total loss of his sight. But in spite of this he 
obtained a liberal education, was for a short time pastor 
of a church in Scotland, then the head of a school for boys, 
the author of several books, and the writer of good poetry. 
A friend said of him that he had known him to dictate 
thirty or forty verses of poetry as fast as they could be 
written down, but the moment he was at a loss for a word 
to his liking, he would stop and seldom resume his work 
until some later time. It is probable, therefore, that this 
hymn was composed in this way, being dictated by the blind 
poet as rapidly as it could be written down. 

There is in the second stanza a reminder of a very re- 
markable characteristic of his writing, namely, that he 
excelled in accurate descriptions of the world of nature, 
although his eyes had never seen the things his words 
described. The author of the hymn has left for us a portrait 
of himself in verse: 


“Straight is my person, but of little size, 

Lean are my cheeks, and hollow are my eyes; 
My youthful down is like my talent, rare, 
Politely distant stands each single hair. 

My voice too rough to charm a lady’s ear, 

So smooth a child may listen without fear.” ete. 


686 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 692. 
“EIN’ FESTE BURG” (Tune). 


Martin Lutuer, 1483—1546. 


Composed in Coburg Castle where Luther was protected 
during the meeting of the diet at Augsburg. In great 
anxiety he here wrote the hymn, composed the tune, and 
sang it. Both tune and words have been often used in later 
works. Meyerbeer in “Les Huguenots” puts it into the 
mouths of an old Huguenot soldier and his companions as 
their death song. Mendelssohn introduces the music into 
-his “Reformation Symphony.” Bach uses it in several 
cantatas. Raff in an overture, and Wagner in his “Kaiser 
March.” Mendelssohn’s use of it is probably the most in 
keeping with the name and work of its composer. The 
first part of his symphony is broken and confused, but in- 
termixed at intervals with strains from Luther’s Song. This 
is like the beginning of Luther’s work, when his doctrines 
were just becoming known to the people. Gradually the 
din grows louder and harsher, but Luther’s music is heard 
more frequently and distinctly, and now and then a strain 
rises clear and loud above the noise, and at length in the 
climax of the symphony, all the instruments sweep together 
into the notes of Luther’s hymn. 


No. 693. 
“AM I A SOLDIER OF THE CROSS?” 


Rev. Isaac Warts. 


It was the custom with many ministers of the time of 
Watts to write a hymn nearly every week with which to 
close the sermon of the following Sunday, and the hymn 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 637 


was then sung by the congregation. A great many of the 
hymns of Watts, and Doddridge, and Beddome were thus 
written. 

One winter Sunday in 1727 in a little English church, 
the minister gave out as his text, the words of Paul to the 
Christians at Corinth, “Watch ye, stand fast in the faith, 
quit you like men, be strong” (I Cor. 16:13). Those were 
the days of long sermons and many heads. The preacher 
first described Christian courage, and then Seer some 
of the occasions for it: 


“Piety in the presence of unchristian people. 

Courage before infidels and scoffers. 

In the practice of unfashionable virtues. 

In pleading the cause of the oppressed. 

In reproving sin. 

In works of reformation. 

In the peculiar circumstances of daily life, as when a 
servant is forced to tell the truth. 

Martyr faith, 7. e., passive valor in bearing affliction, 
and in enduring persecution.” 


And then at the close of the sermon, to enforce its teach- 
ings he repeated this hymn, and it was then first sung by 
his hearers. 


No. 694. 
“COME WE WHO LOVE THE LORD.” 


Rev. Isaac WATTs. 


There was once a difficulty in the choir of a New England 
church, presided over by a somewhat celebrated minister, 
named Samuel West. The choir had refused to sing, and 
the pastor gave out this hymn, and after reading it solemnly 
through, looked up at the rebellious choir and said, ‘‘Please 
commence with the second stanza.” This reads, 


688 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Let those refuse to sing 
Who never knew our God, 
But children of the heavenly King, 
May speak their joys abroad.” 


It is needless to say that the choir chose to sing rather 
than by silence to apply to themselves the classification of 
those who refused. 


No. 695. 
“DEAR LORD, AND MASTER MINE.” 


Tuomas H. Guu. 


The author of this hymn after preparatory education de- 
clined to enter Oxford, because he could not sign the 
“Thirty-nine Articles” required for admission, the doctrines 
to which he objected being those of the Trinity and the 
Divinity of Christ. He was the son of Unitarian parents, 
and had been trained in their faith. From the age of nine- 
teen to twenty-six he devoted himself to the study of the 
Greek New Testament, until as he himself records, “The 
assiduous perusal of the Greek Testament for many years 
showed me clearly that Unitarianism failed to interpret the 
Book of Life. As truth after truth broke upon my gaze, 
God put a new song into my mouth.” This is one of the 
“new songs,” and its language, especially in the first stanza, 
is appropriate to the change that had come to him from 
opposition and unbelief, to faith and loyalty. 


No. 696. 
“HE LEADETH ME, O BLESSED THOUGHT.” 


Rev. J. H. Grmmore. 


The author of this hymn had been talking one evening at 
the prayer meeting of a Baptist church in Philadelphia, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 689 


about the twenty-third Psalm, and had been especially im- 
pressed with the blessedness of being led by God, of the 
mere fact of His leadership altogether apart from the way 
in which He leads, or what He leads us to. At the close of 
the service he went to the home of one of the deacons of 
the church, and there in conversation the same subject was 
continued. As they talked, the blessedness of this leader- 
ship so grew upon him that taking out his pencil he wrote 
the hymn, just as it now stands, and handed it to his wife. 
Without his knowledge she sent it to a Baptist paper and 
it was published. Three years later he went to Rochester, 
New York, to preach and was shown into the church soon 
after his arrival in town. As he entered he took up a hymn 
book, saying to himself, “I wonder what they sing here.” 
The book opened at his own hymn and this was the first 
that he knew that it had found a place among the songs of 
the Church. The hymn has become very popular, and has 
been translated into many languages for missionary use. 
The tune by Wm. B. Bradbury, “‘He leadeth me,” was 
composed for this hymn. 


No. 697. 
“Q THOU GOD, WHO HEAREST PRAYER.” 


Jos1sH CoNnpbeEr, 1789—1855. 


The author of this hymn fell from his horse while riding 
one day, and met with very severe injuries, which confined 
him to his bed for a while and nearly ended his life. It 
was while so confined and suffering from his injury that he 
wrote this hymn. One stanza contains a couplet, now 
usually omitted, referring directly to his condition: 


“Listen to my feeble breath 
Now I touch the gates of death:” 


and the whole hymn is his prayer for recovery. 


690 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 698. 
“WE SHALL MEET BEYOND THE RIVER.” 


Rev. Joun Arxrnson, 1835. 


The author’s mother had recently died (February, 1867) 
and he was alone one night in his study near midnight, and 
was thinking of the mother he had lost, and also of revival 
services in which he had just been engaged. Under the 
influence of these thoughts, the substance of this hymn, as 
he says, “seemed to sing itself into my heart. I said to 
myself, I had better write that down or I shall lose it, and 
there in the silence of my study, not far from midnight, I 
wrote the hymn.” 


No. 699. 
“COMMIT THOU ALL THY GRIEFS.” 


Paunt GERHARDT. 


Near the close of the last century, a pastor was Chaplain 
to the Swedish Embassy in Paris, and preached alternately 
in Swedish and in German. One Sunday this hymn was 
being sung, as a pale man entered, took his seat in the last 
pew, and resting his head on his hand, looked on to his 
neighbor’s book, but did not sing. At the end of the hymn 
the Chaplain took for his text the words of the Psalm on 
which the hymn is based (Psalm 37:5), “Commit thy way 
unto the Lord! Trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to 
pass.” When the sermon was over, the stranger sprang to 
his feet, pressed forward and took the preacher by the hand 
exclaiming, ‘You have saved my life.” Then he related how 
he had come from Germany to Paris, and built up a pros- 
perous business, but in consequence of the war had lost 
everything and with his family was plunged into poverty 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 691° 


and distress. In his misery he had resolved to throw him- 
self into the Seine, and was on his way thither when the 
sound of the singing had reminded him of brighter days, and 
had drawn him into the chapel to hear it through. The pas- 
tor’s sermon had completed what the hymn had begun, and 
given him new courage. The pastor helped him to employ- 
ment and he regained his old position as a merchant and 
remained faithful to the church, but during the reign of 
terror left Paris and settled in Bremen. Later on the pastor 
also quitted Paris and went to Bremen too, and was recog- 
nized by his former friend, who found for him an appoint- 
ment there. 


No. 700. 
“JERUSALEM MY HAPPY HOME.” 


Tapers bo? oe hie 


This hymn, which had its inspiration in the old Latin 
hymn of St. Bernard of Cluny, from which we get our 
“Jerusalem the Golden” and several other hymns, has a 
somewhat curious history. 

A manuscript was discovered some years ago in the British 
Museum, with a notation that it had been bought at an 
auction sale in 1844. Upon examination it proved to be a 
collection of songs quite miscellaneous in character, and 
evidently dating from the reign of Queen Elizabeth. One 
of these songs was headed, “A dittie most excellent for 
every man to reade, that doth intend for to repent, and 
to amend with spede,” to the tune of “A Rich Merchant- 
man,” or “John come kiss me now.” Another piece was 
entitled, “The Parliament of Devils.” Among the collec- 
tion is one which is entitled, “A Song made by F. B. P. to. 
the tune of Diana.” This is the song, but who its author 
was has ever been subject for discussion. There was a cer- 
tain Francis Baker Porter, a Roman Catholic priest and 


692 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


author, who was imprisoned in the Tower of London, during 
the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and many think that from 
behind the prison walls he sang this song of longing for the 
liberty of Heaven. Others with more earnestness than evi- 
dence construe the initials “F. B. P.” to mean Francis Baker, 
priest. This seems less probable than the other. But who- . 
ever “F. B. P.” may have been, his song was knocked about 
until the auctioneer at last knocked it off to the buyer for 
the British Museum, where it lay buried until resurrected 
and polished up for the song service of these later days. 


No. 701. 
“SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.” 


Fanny Crossy (Mrs. Van Alstyne). 


The author of this hymn, blind from infancy, has 
written more than three thousand hymns. Many of them, 
as might be expected, of little value, but many others that 
have become classic in the hymnody of the Church. The 
facility with which she throws her ideas into verse is well 
illustrated by this hymn, which was written in twenty min- 
utes, for Mr. W. H. Doane, who suggested the subject and 
waited while she composed it. On another occasion he 
called on her one afternoon and asked for a hymn to be 
sung at a service that evening, and while he waited she 
composed the hymn: 


“Jesus keep me near the cross.” 


She had a wonderful memory, as witness this incident. 
Mr. Philip Phillips, the “Singing Pilgrim,” called upon her 
at one time and gave to her eighty subjects upon which he 
wished her to write hymns. Forty of these he left with 
her. Not a word of the hymns on any of these subjects was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 693 


written down, until one day she sent for Mr. Phillips, and 
dictated to him as he wrote, the whole forty hymns. She 
had written secular songs as well as sacred, that have 
become popular, as for instance, “Hazel Dell,’ “Rosalie 
the Prairie Flower,” ‘“There’s Music in the Air,” ete. 


No. 702. 
“OH, SWEETLY BREATHE THE LYRES ABOVE.” 


Rev. Ray PAuMeEr. 


During the winter of 1842-1843, there was a revival of 
religion in the church over which Dr. Palmer presided. At 
one communion service quite a number of converts had been 
received into the church, and as part of the service “O 
happy day that fixed my choice” had been sung. At the 
next communion, several others were to be received, and as 
the pastor did not like to repeat the use of the same hymn, 
he composed this one to be used in its stead. 


No. 708. 
“PORTUGUESE HYMN” (Tune). 


It is an ancient custom of European sovereigns to employ 
in their service a number of boy singers who perform the 
music in the chapels where their royal employers worship. 
These choirs are called “Children of the Chapel Royal,” 
and they are led and taught by another servant of the sover- 
eign, called the “Chapel Master.” This person follows the 
sovereign from place to place wherever he may go. Marcus 
Portugal was Chapel Master to the King of Portugal and 
composed this music as an offertory piece, that is, a tune 
to be played in the church while the people were bringing 


694 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


their contributions to the plate. His royal Master visited 
Brazil in 1808, and Portugal went with him, remaining there 
until he died in 1834. When Dom Pedro, Emperor of 
Brazil, the same who, in 1876, in company with President 
Grant, started the machinery of the Centennial Exposition 
at Philadelphia into motion, was a little boy, this Marcus 
Portugal still led the music of the Chapel service where he 
worshipped in Rio Janeiro. 


No. 704. 
“OH, COME AND LET US ALL WITH ONE ACCORD.” 


ANON. 


This is a version of the ninety-fifth Psalm, written by 
some unknown author, and at some unknown time, but it is 
evidently old. In the time of Baxter, who died in 1689, it 
was a common thing so to compose a hymn, that it could be 
sung in either of two meters. This was done by including 
the necessary words to lengthen the lines in brackets so that 
the hymn would make sense either with or without their 
use. Some of Baxter’s hymns were written in this way, and 
this hymn is one of the same sort, as it can be reduced to 
a long meter by striking out two syllables from each line, 
as thus: 

“OQ come let all with one accord, 
Lift up our voice and praise the Lord, 
Let us this evening bless His name, 
Yea, let us magnify the same.” 


No. 705. 
“COME THOU FOUNT OF EVERY BLESSING.” 


R. Rosinson. 


There is a story which concerns the Rev. Dr. Muhlen- 
berg, author of the hymn “I would not live alway,” and 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 695 


concerns also the fourth stanza of this hymn. The Doctor 
had a pupil whose self-righteousness disturbed him, and 
one day he handed him a slip of paper on which he had 
written a version of this stanza corrected to suit the 
occasion. 


“I did seek Thee when a stranger 
Looking for the fold of God! 

I to save my soul from danger, 
Earned redemption in Thy blood.” 


Its effect upon the student is not recorded. 


No. 706. 
“Q LITTLE CHILDREN, SING.” 
“JESUS, YOUR LORD AND KING.” 


Miss ANNA B. WARNER. 


In 1860 there was published a novel entitled “Say and 
Seal.” It was the joint work of two sisters, who had 
years before made themselves famous by the production of 
“The Wide, Wide World,” one of the most widely read 
novels ever written. One of the principal characters in 
“Say and Seal” is a man by the name of Linden, who makes 
his appearance in a little village on the shore of Long 
Island Sound, as teacher of the village school. He is 
provided with a boarding place by the school committee and 
this boarding place provides another important character in 
the story, in the person of Faith Derrick the daughter of 
the family. Mr. Linden becomes a favorite among the 
families of the poor and the sick, and the children all be- 
come his friends. One New Year’s Day he and Faith start 
upon a round of visits, to sick and needy families, with 


696 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


a sleigh full of provisions, and clothing and toys. One of 
the last visits made is at a home where a large family of 
children greet them, for each of whom as well as for the 
common table there is a special gift. When all have been 
distributed one of the children, little Mary, says to her 
mother, “Ma, will Mr. Linden sing for us today?” “TI 
dare say if you ask him pretty,” is the reply, and then it 
is discovered that when Mr. Linden meets these people in 
their homes he is in the habit of singing to them songs and 
hymns. And so after some urging Mr. Linden sings for 
them a “Child’s Christmas Hymn” of five stanzas begin- 
ning: 

“O little children, sing. 

Jesus, your Lord and King 

For you a child became: 

On that bright Christmas day 

He in a manger lay, 

Who hath the one Almighty name!” 


Of course the story is all fiction, and as to most of it, 
the two sisters, who wrote it in its preface say that the 
public shall never know what part each wrote; but as to 
this little hymn as well as two others which in the story 
Mr. Linden sings to a little boy who is sick and is soon to 
die, one of the sisters Miss Anna B. Warner confesses that 
they are of her composing. 


No. 707. 
“1.0! GOD IS HERE, LET US ADORE.” 
GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. 


Rev. Joun WEsLEY, Translator 


This hymn has been in use in mission work to encourage 
those engaged in it when lonely in a heathen land. Rev. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 697 


Dr. Coke and Rev. Benjamin Clough, the first an old mis- 
Sionary and the other a new recruit in the service, were 
together in Hindostan, when Dr. Coke exclaimed to his 
young companion, “My dear brother, I am dead to all but 
India.” 

The thought of such complete consecration cheered the 
young man, who was tempted to homesickness, and he 
began to sing a stanza of this hymn, not now often included 
in our hymnals: 


“Glad the toys of earth we leave, 

Wealth, pleasure, fame, for Thee alone ; 
To Thee our will, soul, flesh, we give, 

Oh, take, oh, seal them for Thine own.” 


And as he sang the aged misssionary joined him in the song, 
and so together, the old man nearly through, and the young 
man but just begun, made the hymn at once a renewal of 
their consecration to the work of missions, and a prayer 
for divine approval. 


No. 708. 
“O LORD, I WOULD DELIGHT IN THEE.” 


Rev. Joon Rywtanp. 


The author of this hymn when a young man was engaged 
to be married to a young lady who was taken with a 
- dangerous sickness, from which it was feared, she would - 
not recover. Filled with anxiety he called at her home to 
inquire about her, and was told by the servant that if he 
would return in half an hour he could hear the opinion of 
the doctors who were then holding a consultation on the 
case. He went away to an empty house near by, and sitting 
down on a large stone, wrote this hymn, expressive of his 
trust in God amid trouble. When he called at the house 


698 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


again he received a-favorable report; the young lady re- 
covered and later they were married. 
The same hymn is often used in a different meter, be- 
ginning: 
“Tord I delight in thee.” 


In the author’s manuscript there is appended to this hymn 
the date of December 3, 1777, and this note: “TI recollect 
deeper feelings of mind in composing this hymn than per- 
haps I ever felt in making any other.” 


No. 709. 
“WOODMAN SPARE THAT TREE.” 


GrorGE P. Morris. 


Years ago when New York City was smaller than at 
present, the author of this song, was one day driving with 
a friend near Bloomingdale. The friend suggested that 
they turn into a woodland road to look at an old tree, 
which as he said had been planted by his grandfather, near 
the cottage where he was born. On the way he told how the 
old tree whenever he saw it brought back the old times 
when, as a happy boy with father and mother and sisters, 
he had sat under its shade. 

As they approached the tree, they saw an old man, with 
his coat off, and an ax. “What are you going to do?” 
. Inquired Mr. Morris’ companion, “You are surely not going 
to cut down that tree?” 

“Yes I am though,” was the blunt reply. 

Further talk brought out the fact that the old man was 
now the owner of the cottage and did not fancy having the 
great tree so near his house, and besides he wanted it for 
firewood. In reply to the question, how much it was worth, 
he said, “About ten dollars,” and the result was a bargain 


” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 699 


struck on the spot, and the money paid, by which he agreed 
to let the tree stand, his daughter who stood by agreeing 
that it should stand as long as she lived. This incident 
led Mr. Morris to write the song: 


“Woodman spare that tree.” 


No. 710. 
“JOYFULLY, JOYFULLY ONWARD I MOVE.” 


Rev. Wm. Hunter. 


Rey. J. M. Thoburn, a Methodist missionary in India, 
relates that at one time, he was traveling at the foot of the 
Himalaya Mountains, in a section of the country, strange 
to him, and the shades of evening were gathering about 
him, as he was pressing forward in search of shelter for the 
night. The country was infested with wild beasts and 
other dangers beset him as he moved on in the silence. 
Suddenly a wailing sound from a distant spot broke on the 
air and as he listened it seemed to be coming nearer. At 
last it was made out to be a human voice, and a few mo- 
ments later the voice of song could be distinguished. It 
was a native Hindoo, singing in his own language, but 
with the old tune familiar in America, this hymn of Dr. 
Hunter’s: 


“Joyfully, joyfully onward I move 
Bound for the land of bright spirits above.” 


The hymn was composed while the author was riding on 
horseback over the mountains of West Virginia, the thought 
in his mind being the reward of the faithful itinerant at the 
end of his work, and the hymn was nearly complete before 
he had an opportunity to write it down. As soon as he 


700 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


reached a stopping place, he alighted from his horse, and 
like Charles Wesley, calling for pen and ink, committed the 


words to paper. 


NOG 11s 
“LEAVE GOD TO ORDER ALL THY WAYS.” 
GrorGE NEUMARK. 


Miss C. WinxkwortH, Translator. 


Several of our hymns were composed as parts of novels, 
with no thought of their ever being used for public wor- 
ship; but here is one which is unique in that a novel has 
been written, which weaves the facts known about its 
author and its origin into a very pretty love story. Its 
title is, “The Lutanist of St. Jacobi’s.” It is by Catherine 
‘Drew, and can be found in Munroe’s “Seaside Library.” 


No. 712. 


“MINE EYES HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF THE 
COMING OF THE LORD.” 


Mrs. Jutia Warp Howe. 


This hymn was published in the Atlantic Monthly, Feb- 
ruary, 1862. A Methodist minister then in Putnam, Ohio, 
saw it and was so charmed with it that he committed it to 
memory at once. He became an army chaplain, was cap- 
tured by the Confederates and sent to Libby Prison. He 
was an enthusiastic singer, and soon had the prisoners hold- 
ing a regular service of song every evening. Here this 
wonderful song was first sung, and it did much to keep up 
the courage of those unfortunate prisoners. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 701 


Not long after, this Methodist minister, who was none 
other than the celebrated Chaplain McCabe, was released 
from Libby and came to Washington. A great meeting of 
the Christian Commission was held in the Hall of Repre- 
sentatives just at that time (winter of 1863-1864), and the 
hall was crowded in every part. While Geo. H. Stewart, 
of Philadelphia, President of the Commission, was speaking, 
a door opened at the side of the platform and a tall man, 
slightly stooped, entered. There was a glance between him 
and the speaker, and then he took a seat near by and the 
speech went on. At its conclusion, Chaplain McCabe was 
introduced and sang this hymn, as only he could sing it. 
As he neared the end of the song, the tall stooping man 
was seen to write on a scrap of paper, which went to Mr. 
Stewart. It was a request from Abraham Lincoln, for he it 
was, the President of the nation, that Chaplain McCabe 
would repeat the song. As he came forward to do so, he 
prefaced the singing with a message which the Union pris- 
oners in Libby had commissioned him to bring to the Presi- 
dent. It was that, notwithstanding the terrible suffering 
they were enduring there, they wanted him “not to mind 
them and to allow no sympathy for them to prevent his 
marching straight onward until the rebellion was crushed, 
slavery extinguished, and the Union restored.” And then 
he sang once more the “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” the 
audience joining in the chorus. With each succeeding stanza 
the enthusiasm rose higher, until at last, with an expres- 
sion absolutely impossible to describe, he sang the closing 
couplet: 


“As He died to make men holy 
Let us die to make men free.” 


The audience were almost wild as they shouted rather than 
sang the final chorus. 


702 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 7138. 
“RESCUE THE PERISHING, CARE FOR THE DYING.” 


FANNY CRrossy. 


The author of this hymn, though blind, often visited the 
Sunday schools and missions about New York. On one 
occasion she was visiting one of the missions, when her own 
hymn, “Rescue the Perishing,” was sung. At its close a 
young man arose and said, “It was this hymn that brought 
me to Christ. I was passing along the street one night, 
ragged and hungry, my time and. money having been wasted 
in drink. I heard some voices singing: 


‘Rescue the perishing 

Care for the dying 
Snatch them in pity 

From sin and the grave.’ 


I followed the sound of the voices and found myself in a 
little mission meeting. I took a back seat just to hear the 
hymn through. I was just ready to perish that night, but 
that hymn saved me. I wish I could see the one who wrote 
that hymn.” And in a few minutes they led the blind 
woman, who had written the words, up to the man who 
had been saved by the words of her hymn. 


No. 714. 
“HIS MOTHER’S SONGS.” 
“Beneath the hot midsummer sun 
The men had marched all day; 


And now beside a rippling stream 
Upon the grass they lay. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 


“Tiring of games and idle jests, 
As swept the hours along, 
They called to one who mused apart, 
‘Come, friend, give us a song.’ 


“*T fear I cannot please,’ he said; 
‘The only songs I know 

Are those my mother used to sing 
For me long years ago.’ 


“ ‘Sing one of those,’ a rough voice cried, 
‘There’s none but true men here; 
To every mother’s son of us 
A mother’s songs are dear.’ 


“Then sweetly rose the singer’s voice 
Amid unwonted calm, 
‘Am I a soldier of the cross, 
A follower of the Lamb?’ 


““And shall I fear to own His cause’— 
The very stream was stilled, 
And hearts that never throbbed with fear 
With tender thoughts were filled. 


“Ended the song; the singer said, 
As to his feet he rose, 
‘Thanks to you all, my friends; good night 
God grant us sweet repose.’ 


“ «Sing us one more,’ the captain begged; 
The soldier bent his head, 
Then glancing round, with smiling lips, 
‘You'll join with me,’ he said. 


“We'll sing this old familiar air, 
Sweet as the bugle call, 


703 


704 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“All hail the power of Jesus’ name, 
Let angels prostrate fall.” 


“Ah! wondrous was the old tune’s spell 
As on the singer sang, 
Man after man fell into line, 
And loud the voices rang. 


“The songs are done, the camp is still, 
Naught but the stream is heard; 
But ah! the depths of every soul 
By those old hymns are stirred. 


“And up from many a bearded lip, 
In whispers soft and low, 
Rises the prayer the mother taught 
The boy long years ago.” 


No. 716. 
“THE OLD PSALM TUNE.” 


Mrs. H. B. Stowsn. 


“You asked, dear friend, the other day, 
Why still my charmed ear 
Rejoiceth in uncultured tone, 
That old psalm tune to hear? 


“T’ve heard full oft in foreign lands 
The grand orchestral strain, 
Where music’s ancient masters live, 
Revealed on earth again. 


‘‘And well I feel the magic power, 
When skilled and cultured art 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 705 


Its cunning web of sweetness weaves 
Around the captured heart. 


“But yet, dear friend, tho’ rudely sung, 
That old psalm tune hath still 
A pulse of power beyond them all 
My inmost soul to thrill. 


“Those halting tones that sound to you, 
Are not the tones I hear; 
But voices of the loved and lost 
Then meet my longing ear. 


“T hear my angel mother’s voice— 

Those were the words she sung; 

I hear my brother’s ringing tones, 
As once on earth they rung: 


“And friends that walk in white above 
Come round me like a cloud, 
And far above those earthly notes 
Their singing sounds aloud. 


“There may be discord, as you say; 
Those voices poorly ring; 

But there’s no discord in the strain 
Those upper spirits sing. 


“For they who sing are of the blest, 
The calm and glorified, 
Whose hours are one eternal rest 
On Heaven’s sweet flowing tide. 


“Their life is music, and accord; 
Their souls and hearts keep time 

In one sweet concert with the Lord— 
One concert vast, sublime. 


706 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“And thro’ the hymns they sang on earth 
Sometimes a sweetness falls, 

On those they loved and left below, 
And softly homeward calls. 


“Bells from our own dear fatherland, 
Borne trembling o’er the sea— 
The narrow sea that they have crossed, - 
The shores where we shall be. 


“Oh sing, sing on, beloved souls; 
Sing cares and griefs to rest; 
Sing, till entranced we arise 
To join you ’mid the blest.” 


No. 716. 
“CROWN HIM LORD OF ALL.” 
Miss L. M. Latrmenr. 


In 1835, when Rev. Edward Webb, D.D., and other mis- 
sionaries sailed for India, the last words they heard from 
their native land were: 


“Crown Him Lord of all.” 


“They hushed their breath, that noble band, 

To catch the last farewell; 

The dear home shore receding fast 
With every ocean swell. 

Above the city’s noise and din 
A song rose on the air 

A song of triumph and of joy 
From loved ones gathered there. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 707 


AJ] hail the power of Jesus’ name!’ 

And,- clear as bugle call, 

The words came floating on the air, 
Oh! ‘crown him Lord of all!’ 

They caught the spirit of the hymn, 
Danger and death looked small 

To those brave ones, who gave their lives 
To crown Him Lord of all. 


“A battle hymn, that song sped on, 
The world for Christ, the call— 
. For every island of the sea 
Shall crown Him Lord of all. 
On Himalaya’s sunny slope, 
By Delhi’s kingly wall, 
They lay their lives down at His feet, 
And crown Him Lord of all. 


“The Southern Cross begins to bend, 

The morning dawns at last 

Idol and shrine, and mosque and tower 
At Jesus’ feet are cast. 

Triumphant Zion, lift thy head, 
Let every burden fall. 

Come cast your trophies at His feet, 
And crown Him Lord of all.” 


No. 717. 
“RAIN ON THE ROOF.” 


Coates KINNEY. 


Mr. Kinney gives this account of the origin of the song: 
“The verses were written when I was about twenty years 
of age, as nearly as I can remember. They were inspired 


708 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


close to the rafters of a little story-and-a-half frame house. 
The language, as first published, was not composed, it came. 
I had just a little more to do with it than I had with the 
coming of the rain. The poem, in its entirety, came and 
asked me to put it down, the next afternoon, in the course 
of a solitary and aimless squandering of a young man’s 
time along a no-whither road through a summer wood. 
Every word of it is a fact, and was a tremendous heart 
throb.” 

The words were sent to Emerson Bennett, at that time 
editor of The Columbia, at Cincinnati, who threw them 
aside, as not being quite up to The Columbia’s standard! 
A few days later, the publisher of the paper, Mr. Penrose 
Jones, rummaging in the drawers of rejected manuscripts, 
came across Mr. Kinney’s, and, holding it up, wanted to 
know, “What the dickens do you mean, Mr. Bennett, by 
putting this here?” The next day it went into print in 
The Columbia, and immediately afterward, to the surprise 
and disgust of Mr. Bennett, it went all over the world. 


No. 718. 
“A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE.” 


Epes SARGENT. 


“A Life on the Ocean Wave” was written for Henry 
Russell. The subject of the song was suggested to me as 
I was walking one breezy, sun-bright morning in spring, on 
the Battery, New York, and looking out upon the ships and 
the small craft under full sail. Having completed my song 
and my walk together, I went to the office of The Mirror, 
wrote out the words, and showed them to my good friend, 
George P. Morris. 

After reading the piece, he said, “My dear boy, this is not 
a song; it will never do for music; but it is a very nice little 
lyric; so let me take it and publish it in The Mirror.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 709 


I consented, and concluded that Morris was right. Some 
days after the publication of the piece, I met Russell. 
“Where is that song?” asked he. 

“T tried my hand at one and failed,” said I. 

“How do you know that?” 

“Morris tells me that it won’t answer.” 

“And is Morris infallible? Hand me the piece, young 
man, and let us go into Hewitt’s back room here, at the 
corner of Park Place and Broadway, and see what we can 
make out of your lines.” 

We passed through the music store. Russell seated him- 
self at the piano; read over the lines attentively; hummed 
an air or two to himself; then ran his fingers over the keys, 
then stopped as if nonplussed. Suddenly a bright idea 
seemed to dawn upon him; a melody had all at once floated 
into his brain, and he began to hum it, and to sway himself 
to its movement. Then striking the keys tentatively a few 
times, he at last confidently launched into the air since 
known as “A Life on the Ocean Wave.” 

“T’ve got it!” he exclaimed. It was all the work of a few 
minutes. I pronounced the melody a success, and it proved 
so. The copyright of the song became very valuable, though 
I never got anything from it myself. It at once became a 
favorite, and soon the bands were playing it in the streets. 
A year or two after its publication, I received from England 
copies of five or six different editions that had been issued 
there by competing publishers. 


No. 719. 
“’D BE A BUTTERFLY.” 


Tuomas Haynes Bay ty. 


Thomas Haynes Bayly and his bride were visiting Lord 
‘Ashtown, when, on going to the drawing-room after dinner, 


710 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


one day, the gentlemen found it deserted, and Mr. Bayly 
went to the garden in pursuit of the ladies. Seeing him, 
they playfully hid themselves in the winding avenues. He 
followed floating laughs and laces a while, and then sat 
down in a tempting arbor. When the ladies joined him, he 
showed them the manuscript of “I’d be a Butterfly,” that 
moment written. Mrs. Bayly composed an air, and it was 
sung that evening to a large party assembled in their honor. 


No. 720. 
“IN THY CLEFT, O ROCK OF AGES.” 


FANNY CROSBY. 


“Not long since, I was called to see a member of my 
church who was very ill. His disease prostrated him, in 
mind and body, to the last degree; and there was a look 
about him which I did not like. During one of my visits 
I told him of a little song I knew, which I called ‘my song,’ 
because I like it so much, and am constantly singing it. I 
asked him if he would like to hear it, at the same time 
fearing he might be too sick and weak. 

“He answered in a voice I could scarcely hear: ‘Yes; sing 
it, please.’ So I sang: 


‘Hide Thou me——’ 


as found in ‘Gospel Hymns,’ page 374. As I sang the last 
verse he was completely overcome, and wept so as to alarm 
me for a moment, for he was very weak. But he soon 
regained composure; and I knelt by his bed in prayer. 

“As I was about to go, he said: ‘Will you not sing one 
verse of that song, again, for me?’ 

“T replied: ‘Yes, indeed, and gladly, the whole of it, if 
you choose.’ Then closing his eyes, he listened very quietly. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 7il 


“After this second singing, he asked: ‘Is that all?’ T told 
him, ‘Yes: it has only three verses,’ 

““Oh,’ he exclaimed, ‘there ought to be forty thousand of 
them! It has done me so much good—so much good!’ 
And, for the first time during his illness, there came a bright 
expression upon his face. 

“T never go to see him now, but that he calls for the song. 
He is better; and I believe the song ‘turned the scales’ in 
his favor. Well, I thought I would try to compose a couple 
more verses for him; and, today, when I sang them, with 
the others, his delight was great. I send the hymn to you, 
as I now have it. You will see that my verses are inserted, 
and appear, alternately, with the others; the words which 
are not mine bearing the quotation marks.” 


“HIDE THOU ME.” 


Z “Thou art my hiding place’— 
(Psalm 32:7). 


“In Thy cleft, O Rock of Ages, 
Hide Thou me. 
When the fitful tempest rages, 
Hide Thou me. 
Where no mortal arm can sever, 
From my heart, Thy love forever, 
Hide me, O Thou Rock of Ages 
Hide Thou me.” 


When cares my earth-path darken, 
Guide Thou me. 
May I, then, for Thy voice hearken, 
Call Thou me. 
Let Thy grace prevent my straying; 
Keep me steadfast watching—praying; 
Keep me, O Thou Rock of Ages, 
Close to Thee. 


712 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“From the snare of sinful pleasure, 
Hide Thou me; 
Thou my heart’s eternal treasure, 
Hide Thou me. 
When the world its power is wielding, 
And my heart is almost yielding, 
Hide me, O Thou Rock of Ages, 
Hide Thou me.” 


. In the time of pain and weakness, 
Help Thou me; 
Give me, still, of faith and meekness; 
Help Thou me. 
If in spirit sore and broken, 
Cheer me with some dear love-token; 
Help me, O Thou Rock of Ages, 
Help Thou me. 


“Tn the night of lonely sorrow, 
Hide Thou me; 
Till, in glory, dawns the morrow, 

Hide Thou me. 

In the sight of Jordan’s billow, 
Let Thy bosom be my pillow; 

Hide me, O Thou Rock of Ages, 

Hide Thou me.” 


No. 721. 
“MAIST ONIE DAY.” 


The following beautiful lines were composed by Timothy 
Swan, the well-known author of the celebrated tunes 
“China” and “Poland,” when in the seventy-fifth year of 
his age. They. were sent to his son, then a resident of New 
York: 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 713 


“Ye ken, dear bairn, that we maun part; 
When death, cauld death, shall bid us start; 
But when he’ll send his dreadfu’ dart 


We canna say. 
Sae we'll be ready for his dart 


Maist onie day. 


“We'll keep a’ right an’ gude wi’in. 

Our walk will then be free fra’ sin; 
Upright we’ll step thro’ theck and thin, 

Straight on our way; 

Deal just wi’ a’, the prize we’ll win 

Maist onie day. 


“Ye ken there’s Ane wha’s just and wise, 
Has said that a’ bairns should rise 
An’ soar aboon the lofty skies, 
And there shall stay; 
Being well prepared, we’ll gain the prize 
Maist onie day. 


“When He wha made a’ things just right, 
Shall ca’ us hence to realms of light, 
Be it morn, or noon, or e’en, or night, 
We will obey. 
We'll be prepared to ta’ our flight 
Maist onie day. 


“Our lamps we’ll fill brimfu’ o’ oil, 
That’s gude and pure—that wulna spoil; 
We'll keep them burnin’ a’ the while, 

To light our way. 

Our walk bein’ done we’ll quit the soil 

Maist onie day.” 


714 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 722. 
“MERTON” (Tune). 


Henry K. OLiver. 


General Oliver was for twenty years the director of music 
and organist of the North Church in Salem, from 1828 to 
1849. One Sunday in 1843, during the pastorate of the 
Rey. Dr. John Brazer, the hymns for the entire day, six in 
number, were sent before service to the director, that he 
might leisurely select appropriate tunes. These were all 
fixed upon, excepting the sixth, which was to close the after- 
noon service, it being Dr. Doddridge’s beautiful hymn, “Ye 
golden lamps of heaven, farewell!” 

All through the day the director could recall no tune 
which he thought well adapted to the words. The clergy- 
man had got well on in his sermon in the afternoon, and 
the director had made no selection; as, however, he was 
conning the words over, more intent upon them than upon 
the words of the preacher, a melody floated into his mind, 
and taking paper and pencil, ke secured it, adding the parts 
in score for his own use, and then giving to each singer his 
part on a slip. The singers were of rare excellence, both in 
voice and skill; and the new tune, given with earnestness 
and effect, took at once. 

The next day General Oliver accidentally met Dr. Brazer, 
who inquired about the new tune, its author, and where it 
could be found, adding that he did not remember ever to 
have heard it before. 

“T never did myself,” replied its author; and then con- 
fessing that he had employed his time otherwise than in 
attending to the sermon, asked the good minister to forgive 
his neglect. 

“Oh, yes,” said Dr. Brazer, “but look a moment; have I 
not a right to complain that you, a member of my church, 
a teacher in my Sunday school, and the leader of my choir, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 715 


should have set so bad an example as to be seen by the 
singers writing music, instead of listening to my preaching?” 

“Yes, yes; I have done evil, in that view of the case,” 
was the reply. “But the thought came suddenly, and had I 
not penciled it down it would have been lost; and now, 
being secured, it may possibly do some good in its way. I 
accept the reproof; but tell me, suppose that while we were 
leading the worship at our end of the church, and the people 
and their minister were joining therein, either in voice or in 
spirit, as they should do, some new thought which had not 
occurred to you during your work at the sermon. in your 
study should suddenly suggest itself, would you not just 
quietly pencil it down on the margin of your notes, so that 
we, the people, might have the benefit of it?” 

“Oh, yes,” replied Dr. Brazer; “I have done that many 
times, and with good effect too.” 

“Yes, yes,” was the retort; “so I have heard. Now don’t 
you think it wrong for the minister of the parish, seated, as 
he is, in open sight of all the worshipers, to be seen of all 
scribbling marginal notes while the choir is endeavoring to 
lead the people in their songs of praise? Hey, Doctor, 
whose notes are the more sinful—yours of the margin or 
mine of the score? So, in the way of rebuke, let’s call it 
an even thing, and if sin it be, let’s sin no more.” 

A hearty laugh followed between the friends, and it was 
agreed that “sauce for a goose would be sauce for a gander.” 

“Olden-Time Music.” 


No. 723. 
“O SACRED HEAD ONCE WOUNDED.” 


St, BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 


This hymn may fairly take its place among missionary 
hymns, for after being translated from Latin into German, 
and from German into English, it has again been translated 


716 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


from the English into many of the languages of heathen 
countries, and has been found useful there. Rev. Dr. 
Schwartz, a celebrated missionary to India, made this his 
dying song. He was thought to be already dead, and his 
fellow missionary, with several native Tamil converts, gath- 
ered at his bedside, began to sing this hymn in the Tamil 
tongue. While they sang the first stanza, no sign of recogni- 
tion or consciousness came from the still form before them, 
but when they stopped at the close of the stanza, the voice 
they supposed to be hushed in death took up the second 
stanza of the hymn, and sang it through with clear and 
distinct utterance, and then was heard no more. 


No. 724. 
“BLOW YE THE TRUMPET, BLOW!” 


Rarely was there ever witnessed a scene of more 
thrilling interest than that of the reunion of the Old 
and New School divisions of the Presbyterian Church, 
which took place in Pittsburgh in May, 1869. On the day 
appointed the two bodies met in their respective places, 
and then, having formed in the street in parallel columns, 
joined ranks, one of each assembly arm in arm with one of 
the other, and so marched to the place where the services 
were to be held. As the head of the column entered the 
church, already crowded, save the seats reserved for the 
delegates, the audience struck up the hymn, “Blow ye the 
trumpet, blow!” and when all were in their places, “All 
hail the power of Jesus’ name!” After the reading of the 
Scriptures came the hymn of Watts, “Blest are the sons of 
peace.” 

The interest of the occasion culminated when Dr. Fowler, 
the moderator of the New School Assembly, at the close of 
his remarks, turned to Dr. Jacobus, the moderator of the 
Old School Assembly, and said: “My dear brother mod- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 717 


erator, may we not, before I take my seat, perform a single 
act symbolical of the union which has taken place between 
the two branches of the church? Let us clasp hands!” 
This challenge was immediately responded to, when all 
joined in singing the grand old doxology of Bishop Ken, 
“Praise God from whom all blessings flow!” And at the 
conclusion of Dr. Jacobus’ remarks, amid flowing tears and 
with swelling hearts, the thousands present joined in sing- 
ing the precious hymn, written just about a century before, 
by that grand and tuneful Baptist minister, John Fawcett, 
himself a convert of ‘George Whitefield, “Blest be the tie 
that binds.” Little did those happy Presbyterians think or 
care that two of the hymns for this hour of their supreme 
gladness were furnished by Methodists, one by a Congrega- 
tionalist, one by an Episcopalian bishop, and one by a 
Baptist, while their own denomination did not furnish a 
single one. 


No. 725. 
“CONVERTED TUNES.” 


John Newton was once an infidel and libertine, profane, 
and blasphemous, and yet when he had been converted and 


wrote the hymn: 


“How sweet the name of Jesus sounds, 
In a believer’s ear,” 


no one refused to sing the hymn because of the former life 
of its author. No one would refuse to worship in a church 
built upon the spot where once a whiskey distillery had 
stood, but would the rather rejoice at the new use to which 
the ground was put. Why should not the same reason 
justify the adoption into sacred music of a tune once used 
for secular purposes? Charles Wesley once stood in the 
open air in an English seaport town and began to sing. This 


718 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was his way of gathering an audience, and his purpose was, 
when the people had been drawn together, to preach to them 
a gospel sermon. But as he sang, there came along a party 
of sailors, “half seas over” with their grog, and drowned the 
hymn with a rollicking song of their own. With character- 
istic quickness of wit he challenged them to return in the 
afternoon and he would sing them a new song to their own 
tune. They came at the appointed time and so did Mr. 
Wesley, and to their own carousing music of “Nancy 
Dawson” he sang a song he had in the meanwhile composed, 
beginning with the words: 


“ Tisted into the cause of sin 
Why should a good be evil? 
Music alas! too long has been 

Pressed to obey the devil.” 


Not a few of the tunes now in good and regular standing 
in our collections of sacred music began their careers in 
some opera love song, or other purely secular sphere. 

A tune called “Opal” in “The Plymouth Collection” is a 
familiar old song accompanying the words: 


“Fresh and strong the breeze is blowing.” 


Another in the same book called “Emerald” is a song com- 
posed by Thomas Haynes Bayly for the words: 


“Shades of evening, close not o’er us.” 


Another in the same book called “Bdellium” was originally 
the air of a very indecent song, afterward used by Robert 
Burns to better words beginning: 


“Saw ye my ain love?” 


In the same book a tune called “All’s Well” is adapted 
from a song of the sixteenth century called “Begone, Old 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 719 


Care,” which was itself altered from a piece called “The 
Queen’s Jig.” It became obsolete, but in 1792 was revived 
and became popular again, in a pantomime ballet called 
“William Tell,” performed at “Sadler's Wells,” the oldest 
theater in London. The tune called “Bruce,” in the same 
book, is only a slightly changed form of an old Scotch air 
called “Hey tuttie, taittie,” which an old tradition Says was 
the marching song of Robert Bruce at the battle of Ban- 
nockburn in 1314. Robert Burns gave to it a fresh popu- 
larity by writing for it the ode beginning: 


) 


“Scots, wha ha’e wi’ Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has often led,” ete. 


The tune of “Ellesdie,” often used for the hymn begin- 
ning, “Jesus I my cross have taken,” was at first a secular 
song beginning: 


“Go, forget me! why should sorrow 
O’er that brow a shadow fling?” 


The words were written by Rey. Charles Wolfe, the same 
who wrote the piece entitled: 


“The burial of Sir John Moore.” 


“Weber” is made up out of the opening chorus of the opera 
of “Oberon,” where fairies come dancing upon the stage 


singing: 


“Light as fairies, foot can fall, 
Pace ye elves, your master’s hall.” 


“Ganges” was an East Indian love song. “Cranbrook” an 
old song of the sea, the words beginning: 


“Come all my jolly sailors all.” 


720 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Belmont,” a simple song beginning, “My mother bids me 
bind my hair,” and the tune “Diana,” or “New Jerusalem,” 
was an old English ballad beginning: 


“Q man in desperation.” 


The tune called “Smyrna” is an extract called “Batti Batti” 
from the opera of “Don Giovanni.” “Herold” is the prayer 
of “Zampa,”’. the opera by Herold for whom the tune is 
named. “Arcadia” was arranged by Thomas Hastings from 
the opera of “Orpheus,” by Offenbach; and “Ariel” was 
taken in the same way by Lowell Mason from Mozart’s 
“Magic Flute.” 


No. 726. 
“COME TO JESUS JUST NOW.” 


There is in our “Gospel Hymns” a piece not in any way 
entitled to be called a hymn. It dignifies it too highly 
almost to call it a ditty. Each stanza is nothing but a four 
times repeated sentence. It originated in England, prob- 
ably among the Methodists, but no one knows where or 
when. Rev. Newman Hall, an English Congregational 
minister, celebrated for his earnestness in all evangelistic 
movements, left a dinner party one evening at the town of 
Hull, to go out to preach to a throng who had gathered in 
the street. As he approached the spot someone was singing 
to the crowd: 


“Come to Jesus, come to Jesus, 
Come to Jesus just now.” 


Mr. Hall caught up the words and made them the theme 
of an earnest extemporaneous sermon. Soon afterward he 
repeated it in his own church to his own people, and a while 
later, when kept from his ordinary work by sickness, he 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 721 


wrote and condensed it into a little tract, and two thousand 
copies were printed. It met with a wonderful reception, 
and was called for in all directions, until at last accounts it 
had been translated into thirty languages and nearly four 
millions of copies had been printed, and the demand stil] 
goes on. So much for the casual singing of a song to a 
crowd gathered on the street. 


No. 727. 
“EMMELAR.” 


In the later hymn books compiled by Rey. C. 8S. Robin- 
son, four tunes will be found either composed or arranged 
by “Emmelar.” No such name appears in any list of musical 
composers either American or European. But if the three 
syllables of the word are separated, they will be found to 
stand for three letters of the alphabet, “M. L. R.,” and these 
are the initials of Dr. Robinson’s own daughter, whose 
maiden name was Mary L. Robinson. She is now the wife 
of Mr. Frank Gaylord, and resides with her husband in 
Paris, where he is engaged in evangelical work. She is 
credited with good musical taste, and assisted her father by 
the composition or arrangement of these pieces for his books. 
Here are the tunes to which her name is attached, “Clyde,” 
“Armstrong,” “LaMonte,” and “Carolyn.” 


No. 728. 


“T KNOW THAT MY REDEEMER LIVES AND—” 


Rey. CuHartes WESLEY. 


Among the curiosities of literature, some of our well- 
known hymns deserve a place. Such a hymn as the one 
beginning, 


722 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
“Tn the Cross of Christ I glory,” 


when we find its author to have been a Unitarian, is surely 
deserving of such a position. So is the beautiful hymn for 
use at the rite of baptism by immersion, 


“We come to the fountain, we stand by the wave,” 


written by Rev. Geo. W. Bethune, a minister of the Dutch 
Reformed Church, and a non-believer in the Immersionists’ 
view of baptism. And reversing the order, a hymn on de- 
nominational union by Rev. Benjamin Beddone, beginning, 


“Let party names no more 
The Christian world divide.” 


And here is a hymn by the great poet of Methodism, which 
sings in joyful confidence the pet doctrine of Calvinism 
and the abhorrence of every Methodist, the doctrine of 
“Divine Sovereignty.” 


“He wills that I should holy be! 
What can withstand His will? 


The counsel of His grace in me, 
He surely shall fulfill.” 


No. 729. 
“Q HOLY GHOST, THOU FOUNT OF LIGHT.” 
‘Ante oF St. Victor. 


Rev. Epwarp Caswatu, Translator. 


One is not likely to suspect how some of the hymns, which 
have within the last decade or two found acceptance in our 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 723 


service of song, carry us far back into the past, when all 
the singing was done by the priests in Latin or Greek, and 
the music was severely simple. This hymn as written in 
Latin by Adam of St. Victor was a “sequence,” and 
“sequences” had a curious origin. The service of the old 
Roman Church provided for the reading of a lesson from 
the Epistles and another from one of the Gospels. Between 
the two, the officiating deacon had to pass from one part 
of the chancel to another, and while he was doing this the 
worshipers sang an “Alleluia” to give him time to make 
the change decorously and with dignity; and to lengthen 
out the time, they lengthened out the final note, until the 
last syllable came to be nearly interminable, and every one 
was heartily tired of it. So a sort of a “rhythmical prayer” 
was invented to be sung in this interval instead of the long 
drawn-out “Alleluia,” and many of the priestly poets of 
those times composed such prayers to which the name of 
“sequences” was given. 


No. 730. 
“ETERNAL LIGHT! ETERNAL LIGHT!” 
Rev. Tuomas BINNEY. 


The author of this hymn was a Congregational minister 
who for many years while pastor of a London church bore a 
conspicuous part in the religious life of England. Earlier 

in life he was pastor of a church on the Isle of Wight, and 
while there, as the story goes, he was walking one night when 
the whole sky seemed brilliant with stars shining like the 
eyes of God. Led by the stars looking down upon him, 
he thought of the eye of God, forever on him, by night as 
well as by day, and enshrined the thought in this hymn. 


724 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 731. 
“HALLE” (Tune). 


In an opera called “Le Nozze di Figaro,” composed by 
Mozart, there is a song sung by a barber commencing with 
the words: 


“Haply your Lordship may be for dancing, 
T to such prancing, 
Play the guitar.” 


It is not now known whether the music was composed by 
Mozart with the other parts of the opera, or was one of the 
popular airs of the day, introduced by him into his com- 
position. Dr. Thomas Hastings arranged this barber’s song, 


and set to it an evening hymn of his own, beginning: 
“Now from labor and from care.” 

He gave to it the name of “Halle” and by this name it has 

ever since remained in popular use in America. In 1861, 

Dr. W. H. Monk again seized upon the old barber’s song 

and arranged it for the words of Keble’s hymn: 


“Sun of my’ Soul, Thou Savior dear,” 


and published it in “Hymns Ancient and Modern” under 
the name of “Hursley.” The tune has traveled under several 


aliases, sometimes as “Keble,” when associated with Keble’s , 


hymn, again as “Pascal,” and still again as “Stillorgan,” 
and in some books it loses all identity and appears simply 
as a “Huguenot Air,” but to Dr. Hastings belongs the 
credit of first introducing it to sacred music. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 725 
No. 782. 
“NEAR THE CROSS WAS MARY WEEPING.” 


JACOBUS DE BENEDICTUS. 


Here is a hymn which has needed a good deal of expurga- 
tion to make it worthy of a place in our Protestant hymnals. 
It was originally written as a song of worship of the Virgin 
Mary. Its author is not certainly known, but it is attributed 
to Jacobus de Benedictus, an Italian nobleman who lived 
in the thirteenth century. In addition to his true name given 
above, he had another by which he was as often called 
“Jacoponus,” which meant “Big James” or “Silly James.” 
In many of his actions he was a clown and a buffoon. On 
one occasion he covered himself with sticky grease and then 
rolled himself in feathers of various colors, and in this 
elegant attire appeared at the wedding of his niece. This 
is a specimen of his eccentricities which gave to him the 
name of “Silly James,” but he had many sterling qualities, 
and he wrote many a hymn. 


This hymn, if we study its history, brings us into contact 
with one of the fanatical crazes of the middle ages. In 
the eleventh century there rose a sect called “Flagellants,” 
who proclaimed the doctrine of self whipping, as an atone- 
ment for their own sins and for the sins of others, too. 
The craze spread rapidly through nearly all the countries 
of Europe, and processions of men, women, and even chil- 
dren passed through the cities and villages whipping their 
naked backs and singing religious songs as they marched. 
This hymn was the one most frequently used, and it became 
known and popular in every corner of Europe, as sung by 
these processions of Flagellants. 


726 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 733. 
“Q JESUS, SWEET THE TEARS I SHED.” 


Rev. Ray PALMER. 


A curious circumstance revealed the origin of this hymn. 
It was floating about in the religious periodicals with simply 
the name “Palmer” attached as author, which was quite 
indefinite. At last a hymn book compiler was led to use 
it in his book, but was obliged to cut off a stanza to make 
it fit his page. This disfigurement brought the author 
to him, bewailing with gricf the mutilation of his hymn. 
Apology was offered and accepted, and then Dr. Palmer 
confessed that the verses of this hymn were more than 
usually dear to him because they described a real experience 
he had once had, an outburst of actual tears in view of 
the thought of Jesus dying on the Cross. 


No. 734. 
“WELCOME HAPPY MORNING.” 
“Rortunatus,” V. H. C. 


Rev. Joun Euuerton, TRANSLATOR. 


Singing this hymn in these days, we should not forget 
one singer who sang it in other days and different circum- 
stances. There lived in the town of Prague, almost five 
hundred years ago, a layman who became as active and 
able a reformer of the abuses which had crept into the 
Romish Church, as did Luther in Germany. He held dispu- 
tations with the defenders of Rome, circulated the literature 
of the reformers, and endeavored to defend John Huss, the 
great reformer and martyr, when he was under arrest and 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 727 


in prison. At last his own turn came, and the fagots of 
the martyrs’ fire piled about him, the blaze was kindled, 
and as it rose about him, he sang this song: 


“Welcome happy morning, 
Age to age shall say, 
Hell to-day is vanquished, 

Heaven is won to-day.” 


No. 738. ° 
“HARK FROM THE TOMBS A DOLEFUL SOUND.” 


Rev. Isaac Warts. 


This can scarcely be called a missionary hymn, and yet 
it has had a great influence on American Missionary Work. 
A boy of fifteen years, gay and ambitious, was with a 
party of his cousins, who were playing jokes on him, when 
as another joke they began to sing this hymn, to the tune 
of “Bangor,” for the sake of seeing what effect it would 
have upon him. As they sang it slowly and solemnly and 
without a smile, he sat silent. It pierced into his very soul, 
and for the first time he felt himself to be a sinner and in 
danger of being lost. His conversion took place soon after, 
and he became one of the five who met at the historical 
haystack in Williamstown, Massachusetts, and out of this 
grew the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign 
Missions. -His name was Samuel’J. Mills. 


No. 736. 


“MEAR” (Tune). 


This tune is linked to a hymn, which in New England 
at least, in the olden time was always sung to its music, 


STORIES OF THE GREAT 


whose childhood was spent there, the old 
e whose voices sang it 


728 


and to anyone 
tune must recall memories of thos . 
then but who now sing “the New Song” in Heaven. A 


few years ago a little poem appeared in a Hartford, 
Connecticut, paper, which tells the story of this old tune 
so well that it is worth repeating: 


“T heard the words of the preacher 
As he read that psalm so dear, 
Which mother sang at our cradle 

To the ancient tune of Mear. 


“And I felt her angel presence, 
As sung were those blessed words; 
My heart was with rapture filling, 
As sweet as the song of birds. 


“T longed for the land of summer, 
Life’s river, with waters clear, 
For the calm, sweet eyes of mother, 
Who sang the old tune of Mear. 


“To-day that e’er-welcomed cadence 
Of song floated back to me; 

Over the paths of my childhood 
It lovingly came, all free. 


“T thanked the good All-Father 
For this memory bright and clear; 
The saintly smile of my mother, 
And her low voice singing Mear. 


“Ah, me! the father has rested 
Many and many a year; 
The mother who sang by our cradle 
Has gone to a higher sphere. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 729 


“Brothers and sisters have parted; 

Some live in the Better Land, 
And some are waiting their summons, 

Sojourners yet on life’s strand. 


“I feel when we meet up yonder, 
Where cometh no sigh nor tear, 
Our mother will softly sing us 
That grand old tune of Mear.” 


N0.787. 
“GREAT GOD, WHEN I APPROACH THY THRONE.” 


Rev. W. H. Batuvurst: 


“The story is told of a merchant whose life was once saved 
at the price of another man’s in a shipwreck. He was aided, 
as the waves tossed him helpless and exhausted up against 
a cliff, by the outstretched hand of a longshoreman; but, 
even while he sank down upon the rock where he was saved, 
he had the unspeakable horror of beholding his rescuer 
swept off the foothold and instantly drowned before his 
eyes. He could never get over the shock; he was not crazed, 
he was as strong and bright as ever. But whenever he had 
finished his business errand, he would go up to the salesman 
of whom he bought his goods, and, taking his hand, would 
say gently, “A man died for me!” He never omitted 
this act; some thought him queer, but he always came back 
to remove his hat, put out his hand, and almost whisper, 
“A man died for me.” His eyes would be moist, his tones 
would be tremulous, but he was not crazy—only reverent 
and grateful—as he said his quiet little sentence, “A man 
died for me.” 


730 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 738. 
-“HELMSLEY” (Tune). 


This tune was an old English love song sung by Mistress 
Anne Catley at “Sadler’s Wells,” the oldest theater in 
London, in a play called “The Golden Pippin” to the words: 


“Guardian Angels now protect me 
Send me back the youth I love.” 


Tt was also used as a dancing tune, and became a common 
street ballad. Here Thomas Olivers, the famous converted 
shoemaker, heard it. Like all the Methodist preachers of 
that day, he was on the watch for good music for the 
church, and hearing this song on the street, he seized upon 
its melody and arranged it into this tune, which was at 
first known by the name of “Olivers” but was afterward 
called “Helmsley.” 


No. 739. 
“MONSON” (Tune). 


Here is an instance of a tune composed by a son for a 
hymn written by his mother. Rev. 8S. R. Brown was one 
of the first American Missionaries to Japan. He was the 
son of Mrs. Phoebe H. Brown, who wrote the hymn begin- 
ning, “I love to steal awhile away,” and this tune was 
composed for these words and the name given to it of 
the town in Massachusetts in which his mother lived. After 
his mother’s death, he wrote of her this tribute: “To her 
I owe all I am, and if I have done any good in the world, 
to her under God it is due. She seems even now to have 
me in her hands, holding me up for work for Christ, and 
His cause, with a grasp I can feel.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 731 


No. 740. 
“QO LORD THY WORK REVIVE.” 


Mrs. PHorese H. Brown. 


Long before there was any foreign missionary society in 
America, through which monies could be contributed for 
that cause, a poor woman in Massachusetts became inter- 
ested in the heathen, and although her life was a constant 
struggle with poverty, she used to save small sums of 
money which she was in the habit of sending to English 
missionaries in Africa and India, through a Christian mer- 
chant in Philadelphia, who had ships sailing to those 
countries. It is not strange that the son of such a mother 
should enter the mission field, and one of the earliest 
missionaries to Japan was Rey. 8. R. Brown, the only son 
of this poor Massachusetts woman. Lovers of hymns know 
her well as the author of the hymn beginning: 


“T love to steal awhile away 
From every cumbering care.” 


And here is another of her hymns, written for use when 
Christians meet to pray for an advancement of Christ’s 
cause both at home and abroad." 


No. 741. 
“Q THOU MY SOUL FORGET NO MORE.” 


KRISHNU PAL. 


In the year 1781 John Thomas, a young Englishman of 
twenty-four years listened to a sermon in an English 


1 For this son’s tribute to his mother see No. 739. 


732 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


church preached by Dr. Samuel Stennett, the same who 
wrote our hymn, “Majestic sweetness sits enthroned.” The 
text was the words of Christ in John 6:27: Labor not 
for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which 
endureth unto everlasting life,” ete. The result of that 
sermon was the young man’s conversion. He had just 
finished his studies as a physician and had secured an 
appointment as a naval surgeon, and been assigned to 
an East Indiaman bound for Bengal. On landing in Cal- 
cutta, he longed for Christian companionship, and adyver- 
tised in the India Gazette, November 1, 1783. No mission- 
ary had yet told the story of the Cross in India, and his 
advertisement brought no response. This young man was 
the first Englishman to study the Hindoo language for the 
purpose of preaching the gospel in it. Later he returned 
to England and was the first appointed missionary to India, 
the celebrated Carey going with him as his assistant. 
Together these men spent years in work among the natives 
without seeing a single convert. At the end of that time a 
Hindoo carpenter while at work fell and broke his arm. 
Dr. Thomas was called to set the broken limb, and when 
he had done this he told the Gospel story to the crowd that 
had assembled. The carpenter whom he had helped heard 
the story and wept as he heard it, and soon he came to 
the missionaries to hear more about it. He was converted, 
renounced his caste, and was baptized in the Ganges, 
becoming thus the first convert to Christianity in the mission. 
He became an ardent student, wrote tracts for his people, 
and composed several hymns. This one has been trans- 
lated for our use into English by Dr. Marshmann and is 
the only hymn in our English collections written by a 
Hindoo. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 733 


No. 742. 
“HAIL, TRANQUIL HOUR OF CLOSING DAY!” 
Rev. Leonarp BAcon. 


In 1845, the Congregational Churches of Connecticut ap- 
pointed a committee to compile for their use a new hymnal. 
The author of this hymn, who was one of that committee, 
wanted to include in the collection the hymn of Phoebe H. 
Brown beginning “I love to steal awhile away,” but Rev. 
Dr. Nettleton, in whose “Village Hymns” that hymn first 
appeared and who owned the copyright, refused permission 
for its use. So Dr. Bacon wrote this hymn to take its place, 
and some people have thought that he imitated Mrs. 
Brown’s work closely enough to be entitled to the name of 
plagiarist. 


No. 748. 
Sir ARTHUR 8. SULLIVAN. 


It is a pleasant thing when we become familiar with the 
name of someone who ministers by his music or his writings 
to our week-day pleasure, to find that the same one is 
in sympathy with us in our religious moods as well. I 
remember with what pleasure I once learned that a western 
gentleman famous for the dry drollery of his stories and 
lectures, could make one cry as well as laugh, and that he 
preached as good sermons as he wrote jokes. And so I 
think we shall esteem all: the more highly the man who 
composed in lighter vein, the musie of “Pinafore,” and 
“Patience,” when we find him also to be the writer of 
some of the sweetest of our sacred songs. 


734 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 744. 
“I LAY MY SINS ON JESUS.” 
“I WAS A WANDERING SHEEP.” 


Rev. Horatius Bonar. 


The author of these hymns was in the habit of holding 
special Sabbath School Services for the children, and he 
wrote for each such service a special hymn, the singing 
of which was followed by a short address. The hymns 
above named were some of those written for these children’s 
services. 


No. 745. 
“THE HEAVENS DECLARE THY GLORY LORD.” 


Rev. Isaac WATTs. 


Dr. C. S. Robinson relates the following incident: 

“Once, as I entered the observatory of Harvard College, 
at the close of day, a friend who had led me there asked 
that I might be shown the new instrument that had just 
been introduced. The professor replied, courteously, “Yes; 
I think there may be time enough yet for him to see a 
star if you will find one.” 

My companion “found one” by looking in a worn little 
book of astronomical tables lying there on the desk, and 
replied quietly, “There is one at 5:20.” So in a hurried 
instant, the covering was stripped off from the great brass 
tube, and prone upon his back, under the eyepiece, lay the 
enthusiastic professor. While my friend stood by with 
what seemed a tack hammer in his hand, I noticed that 
he kept his eyes on a tall chronometer clock near us. 
Suddenly two sounds broke the impressive stillness; we had 
been waiting for the star. One was the word “there” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 735 


spoken by the professor, the other was the tap of the 
hammer on the stone top of the table by my companion. 
Both occurred at the same instant—the same particle of 
the instant—they were positively simultaneous. But the man 
who spoke the word could not see the clock; he was looking 
at the star that came swinging along till it touched the 
spiderweb line in his instrument; and the other man who 
struck the hammerstroke could not see the star; he was, 
looking at the second-hand on the dial plate. When the 
index in its simplicity of regular duty marked twenty 
minutes after five there fell the click on the stone; and 
then, too, there came on in the heavens, millions of miles 
away, one of God’s stars, having no speech, but rolling 
in on time, as he bade it ages ago. Then I was invited 
to look in and see the world of light’ and beauty as it 
swept the next fiber in the tube. But afterward I went 
curiously to the book and found that it had been published 
ten years before, and that its calculations ran far away 
into the future, and that it had been based on calculations - 
a thousand years old. And God’s fidelity to the covenant 
of nature, here now almost three thousand years after 
David had made the nineteenth Psalm, had brought the 
glorious creature of the sky into the field of Harvard 
College’s instrument just as that patient clock reached 
the second needed for the truth of the ancient prediction. 
Need I say that those two professors almost wondered (so 
used to such things were they) at the awestruck devotion, 
the hushed reverence, with which I left the room. 


No. 746. 
“THERE IS A CITY GREAT AND STRONG.” 


Rev. Dennis WorTMANn. 1835. 


This hymn is simply an extract from a long poem en- 
titled “Reliques of the Christ” written by a man who did 


736 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


not know before that he could write poetry at all. “Suffer- 
ing,” he says, “from nervous prostration and unable to sleep, 
the beginning of this poem came to me one night in Novem- 
ber, 1871.” The first three stanzas were thought out then, 
or rather came to him almost involuntarily, and more came 
the same way the next morning, and so for seventeen years, 
at odd moments, when the inspiration seized him, he worked 
away at the idea he had conceived. When published, the 
book became popular and ranks among the best produc- 
tions of modern times. 


No. 747. 
“LORD JESUS THINK OF ME.” 


SYNESIUS. 


It was Simon, “a man of Cyrene,” (Matthew 27:32) 
who was compelled to bear the cross upon which Christ 
’ was crucified. Among those who were scattered abroad 
after Stephen was killed were some who were men of Cyrene. 
And in the church at Antioch there was a leader named 
“Tucius of Cyrene.” This Cyrene was the principal city 
of Northern Africa, and its citizens bore frequent part in 
the affairs of the early church. About 400 years after 
Christ. there came into notice there a philosopher named 
Synesius, who bore the unique distinction of being able to 
trace his lineage back without a missing link through seven- 
teen centuries. Of this Gibbon, the historian, took notice and 
said it was unequalled in the history of mankind. He 
was a pagan, but he married a Christian wife, and under 
her influence became a semi-Christian (if such a thing can 
be) himself. His ability and character were such that he 
was by and by made a bishop of the Church. He wrote 
some poetry, and from one of his odes this hymn has been 
translated by Rev. A. W. Chatfield, a vicar of the Church 
of England. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 737 
No. 748. 
“TAKE MY LIFE AND LET IT BE.” 


Miss F. R. Haveracau. 


This hymn was written in 1874, and four years later, 
in 1878, the author wrote a letter which is a fine commen- 
tary on one of its stanzas. She says, “The Lord has shown 
me another little step, and of course I have taken it with 
extreme delight. ‘Take my silver and my gold,’ now means 
shipping off all my ornaments (including a jewel cabinet 
which is really fit for a countess) to the Church Missionary 
House, where they will be accepted and disposed of for 
me. I retain only a brooch or two for daily wear, which 
are memorials of my dear parents; also a locket with the 
only portrait I have of my niece in heaven. But these I 
redeem so that the whole value goes to the Church Mission- 
ary Society. I had no idea I had such a jeweler’s shop; 
nearly fifty articles are being packed off. I don’t think 
I need tell you I never packed a box with such pleasure.” 


No. 749. 
“THE SANDS OF TIME ARE SINKING.” 
SOU; CHRIbl sheioe! HE FOUNTAR ES 


Mrs. ANNE Ross Cousin. 


Samuel Rutherford was one of the heroic old Scotch 
Covenanters of whom the world was not worthy. Settled 
as the minister of a little church in a secluded valley in the 
South of Scotland in a village called Anwoth, he made him- 
self known and his influence felt all over England and 
Scotland and across the channel on the Continent. By 


738 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


and by the Established Church began to persecute him. 
They banished him from the little town he loved, and 
burned the books he had written, and at last cited him to 
appear before Parliament on a charge of treason. He was 
ill when the summons came and soon was dying. He sent 
back word to his persecutors, “I am summoned before a 
higher court; that first summons I behoove to answer; and 
ere a few days arrive, I shall be where few kings and great 
folks come.” 

A few days later, as the sun was sinking, a friend said 
to him, “What think ye now of Christ?” And the answer 
came, “O, that all my brethren in the land may know what 
a Master I have served, and what peace I have this day! 
I shall sleep in Christ, and when I awake I shall be satisfied 
with His likeness. This night shall close the door, and put 
my anchor within the veil; and I shall go away in a sleep 
by five of the clock in the morning. Glory! glory to 
my Creator and Redeemer forever! I shall live and adore 
Him. Oh, for arms to embrace Him. Oh, for a well-tuned 
harp! Glory! glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land.” 

He died at the time he predicted. That was two hundred 
years ago and more, but within the last fifty years a 
Scotch lady, reading his biography, and coming upon these 
last words, wove them into a poem of nineteen stanzas, from 
which have been culled these two hymns. Some of the 
old Covenanter’s earlier sayings, but more especially these 
dying words, “Glory, glory dwelleth in Immanuel’s land,” 
she enshrined in her poem. 


No. 750. 
“THOUGH NOW THE NATIONS SIT BENEATH.” 
This hymn has passed through more metamorphoses than 


a butterfly. About the year 1800 there was a hymn book 
published in England which contained it in its original form, 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 739 


and which assigned its authorship to Sarah Slinn. Who 
this lady was, when or where she was born, where she lived 
or when or where she died, has never been ascertained. This 
once she comes into public notice, and immediately retires 
into obscurity. Some years later Leonard Bacon, a theo- 
logical student at Andover, altered the hymn, leaving out 
parts and adding others, and republished it. A few years 
later Rev. Asahel Nettleton revised it again and inserted 
it in a book he compiled. The compilers of a new hymn 
book a few years later liked it well enough to use it, but 
changed it again, and later still Leonard Bacon, by this 
time a pastor in active service, revised it once more, and 
included it in still another hymn book. By this time, as may 
well be imagined, there was not much left of Sarah Slinn, 
only a distant resemblance to her hymn in two lines, and 
it usually stands accredited in the books to Leonard Bacon, 
who was the first and the last “tinker” who tried to mend 
her verses. 


No. 761. 
“LOVE DIVINE ALL LOVE EXCELLING.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


“Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, 
and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn 
of Me for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall 
find rest to your souls” (Matthew, 11:28,29). Did you ever 
notice that these words of Christ describe two different 
kinds of rest? In one He offers to give to the heavy- 
laden who come to Him, in the other one that they shall 
find for themselves who take His yoke upon them and 
learn of Him. Charles Wesley had made this discovery, 
and he embodied it in the second stanza of this hymn, the 
fourth line of which he wrote, “Let us find that second rest.” 
But some hymn tinker who had not made the discovery 


740 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


spoiled the force of Wesley’s allusion by changing the 
line to read, “Let us find the promised rest.” 
C. S. Rosrnson. 


No. 752. 
“0, GOD OF ABRAHAM EVER SURE.” 


Rev. LEONARD Bacon. 


In 1845, the Congregational Churches of Connecticut ap- 
pointed a committee to prepare for their use a new hymnal. 
The author of this hymn, who was one of this committee, 
desired to use in the collection the hymn of Mrs. A. B. 
Hyde, beginning “Dear Savior, if these lambs should stray.” 
This hymn first appeared in the “Village Hymns” of Dr. 
Nettleton, and he owned the copyright. Dr. Bacon asked 
permission to copy the hymn into the new collection and 
was refused ( so he set to work to make a subsitute, and this 
is the result. Some people have been ungracious enough 
to say that his admiration for Mrs. Hyde’s hymn led him 
to imitate it in his own too closely to warrant any claim to 
originality on his part. 


No. 753. 
“YE SERVANTS OF GOD, YOUR MASTER PROCLAIM.” 
Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 
The warrant and the encouragement for Christian Mis- 
sions are found in the last words of Christ to His disciples, 
as they are given by Matthew and Mark. “Go ye into all 


the world and preach the gospel to every creature.” 


“All power is given unto Me in heaven and in earth,” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 741 


“Lo I am with you alway even unto the end of the world.” 


In the year 1744 England was at war with France, and 
her people were in great fear of an invasion of her shores 
to dethrone her reigning king, George II, and restore to 
the throne the House of Stuart. In the general excitement, 
the Methodists were accused of being secret friends of 
France and of working in her interest. Their meetings 
were broken up by mobs, their preachers were impressed 
into the army, and even the Wesleys were placed under 
arrest. In the midst of these troublous times, the great 
Methodist leaders published a little pamphlet of hymns 
for the encouragement of their followers, and to draw from 
the very persecutions through which they were passing 
strength to be faithful to the cause they had espoused. 
This little pamphlet was entitled “Hymns for Times ‘of 
Trouble and Persecution.” This hymn was one of the number 
it contained, and the special use for which it was intended 
is set forth in its heading, “To be sung in a Tumult.” It 
embodies the words of Christ given above, and is therefore 
a fitting hymn with which to begin a missionary meeting. 


No. 754. 
“SHINE, MIGHTY GOD, ON ZION SHINE.” 


Rev. Isaac Watts, altered by Joel Barlow. 


This is a varaphrase of the sixty-seventh Psalm. The 
title given to this Psalm in the Bible is “A prayer ‘for 
the enlargement of God’s Kingdom, to the joy of the 
people end the increase of God’s blessings.” 

This designates it as an appropriate missionary hymn. 
Dr. Watts gave to it, however, a somewhat narrow scope 
and applied it to the British Nation. He wrote the first 
line “Shine, Mighty God! on Britain Shine,” and in the 
third stanza he wrote the last two lines: 


742 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“While British tongues exalt His praise, 
And British hearts rejoice.” 


In this form the hymn came to this country, and up to the 
time of the American Revolution it was so sung in American 
churches. It was this sort of a hymn book that was in use 
in the New Jersey church near which there was a battle 
between the British and the Continentals. It is said that 
the minister of the church was encouraging the boys who 
were fighting, when their stock of paper for gun wads gave 
out. As soon as he knew the situation, he ran into the 
meeting house and soon came rushing out again with his 
arms full of hymn books which he quickly distributed among 
the soldiers shouting, “Give ’em Watts, boys! give ’em 
Watts.” At the end of the war, the churches thought these 
local allusions in the hymns no longer appropriate, and 
so they engaged the services of Joel Barlow, a Connecticut 
lawyer and poet, who had been an army chaplain through 
the war and had written many a stirring patriotic song 
for the soldiers’ use, to revise these hymns and take the 
“British” out of them. His work was exceptionally happy 
in the case of this Psalm, for he not only restored it to 
the original sentiment of the Poet of Israel, but gave to us 
in it for these later days an excellent missionary song. 


No. 756. 
“NOW LET OUR SOULS ON WINGS SUBLIME.” 


Rev. Tuomas Grpsons, 1720—1785. 


Dr. Gibbons was one of the industrious workers of 
his times, adding to the ordinary duties of a pastor the 
work of teaching logic, metaphysics, ethics and rhetoric at 
an academy, delivering weekly lectures, writing books on 
theology, and adding to all of these frequent attempts at 
poetry, Like many other preachers of his day he often 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 743 


closed his sermons with a hymn composed for that especial 
purpose, and this hymn was given at the end of a sermon 
from the text, “Then shall the dust return to the earth 
as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave 
it.” Ecclesiastes, 12:7. 


No. 756. 
“NOT ALL THE BLOOD OF BEASTS.” 


Isaac WATTS 


When Henry Obookiah, the Sandwich Island heathen boy, 
who came to this country and was educated here, asked 
how it could be that Jesus being only one person could 
make atonement by his death for everyone—so many, his 
teacher was at a loss for a moment how to make it plain 
to him; then she loosed from the fringe of her dress a 
handful of little beads, and placed them in one of the 
boy’s hands, and then suddenly drew off her diamond ring, 
and placed it in his other hand, and asked him which was 
the most valuable. Heathen though he was, he caught the 
idea in an instant that Watts so aptly puts into the stanza: 


“But Christ the heavenly Lamb 
Takes all our sins away, 
A sacrifice of Nobler Name, 
And richer blood than they.” 


No. 757. 


“COME, THOU SOUL TRANSFORMING SPIRIT.” 


Rev. JoNaATHAN Evans, 1748—1809. 


The author of this hymn worked in a ribbon factory until 
he was twenty-one years of age; he had up to that time 


744 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


received no religious instruction, and was a companion of 
the degraded and profligate. When twenty-eight years of 
age he was converted and began at once to work for Christ. 
He remained a business man all his life but soon began to 
preach and to gather neglected children together for reli- 
gious instruction. He fitted up a boathouse on the bank 
of a canal as a place for religious meetings, and this soon 
grew into a chapel, where he was soon installed as pastor. 
He was something of a doctor also and attended to. the 
bodily ailments of his people as well as to their spiritual 
troubles. 


No. 758. 
“ST. ANNE” (Tune). 


There is a great deal said as to the right of any editor 
to alter the words ofa hymn from those originally used 
by its author, but right or wrong, it is so often done that 
very few hymns stand now in our collections as they 
were first written. It is perhaps not as generally known, 
or at least it is not so often referred to, that the music 
of our tunes has been as often tampered with as the words 
that are sung to them. This tune called “St. Anne,” 
written now almost two hundred years ago (1708) by the 
organist of Westminster Chapel, and named in honor of 
the Church of St. Anne at Westminster, is an instance of 
this tune-tinkering proclivity. In his “Studies of Worship 
Music,” Dr. Curwen gives seven different forms in which he 
has found the tune in recent English Collections, and the 
tune in “Laudes Dominw’ differs from them all. In the 
year 1872, the Prince of Wales recovered from a severe ill- 
ness and a celebration was held in the Crystal Palace at 
London, commemorating his safe recovery. For this festi- 
val Sir Arthur Sullivan composed an elaborate Te Deum, 
in the course of which he introduced the music of this tune. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 745 
No. 759. 


“FREE FROM THE LAW, O HAPPY CONDITION.” 
P? Ps Briss: 


“YET THERE IS ROOM! THE LAMB’S BRIGHT HALL 
OF SONG.” 


Horatius Bonar. 


Mr. W. J. Orsman is an evangelist who has earned the 
name of “The Apostle of the Costermongers,” in one of 
the lowest parts of London. He uses bands of singers who 
sing Gospel songs on the street corners and in open spaces, 
where crowds can be gathered. One Sunday afternoon Mr. 
Orsman was sent for to visit a dying man in “Wilderness 
Row,” who had been first led into the gospel meetings by 
the singing of these songs, and afterward had been con- 
verted. The sick man spoke of the help these gospel songs 
had been to him and said, “Oh, if I could only hear them 
once more before I die.” Mr. Orsman’s band of singers was 
at that moment singing on the street not far away, and 
they were sent for to come to the house. They stood out- 
side on the pavement under the window where the man lay 
dying, like serenaders, and softly sang the pieces he had 
asked for, while he listened and smiled at the words which 
had to him such deep meaning then. 


No. 760. 


“MY GOD, MY FATHER, WHILE I STRAY.” 


Miss CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. 


There is a sweet little story told of an English choir 
boy who had been sick with scarlet fever, and when the 


746 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


fever had gone had not strength enough left to recover. 
One Sunday evening his bed had been drawn close to the 
open window, so that he might see the people as they 
gathered for vesper service. He heard the bells as they 
rang, and when they had stopped he heard the sound of 
the organ in the church where he had been used to sing, 
and then it stopped, and he lay with closed eyes for a while 
and then he heard the organ again and he knew the people 
were coming out of the church, and soon he heard the 
sound of footsteps on the gravel walk up to the house 
where he was. 

“Tift me up, mother,” he whispered. “The choir boys 
are coming, I can hear them. Wave my handkerchief to 
them, mother.” 

The tramping of the feet stopped under his window, and 
a boy’s voice said, “We want to sing to Claude.” 

“Tet them sing, mother; let me hear them just once 
more.” And so the mother nodded permission from the 
window, and gathered there in the glow of the sunset the 
choir boys sang to their sick companion: 


“My God, my Father, while I stray 
Far from my home, in life’s rough way, 
Oh, teach me from my heart to say, 
Thy will be done!” 


and as they sang, the dying boy raised his voice too, and 
with what strength he could command, he joined them 
as they sang: 


“Tf Thou shouldst call me to resign 
What most I prize, it ne’er was mine, 
I only yield Thee what is Thine, 
Thy will be done.” 


When the hymn was finished the choir boys walked quietly 
away and Claude whispered to his mother, ‘Mother, write 
over my grave, ‘Thy will be done.’” And so he died. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 747 
No. 761. 
“THERE IS A HAPPY LAND.” 


ANDREW YOUNG. 


A college student in Virginia, somewhat proud of his 
attainments, thought to himself that if ever he became a 
Christian it would be through some eloquent sermon by 
some distinguished pulpit orator. On one occasion he was 
hunting deer, when the sound of a woman’s voice singing 
caught his ear. Following it, he soon came to a log cabin 
in the mountains, beside which an old negro woman was 
busy washing clothes, and singing as she worked. As he 
came nearer he noticed that she was blind as well as old, 
and so she did not notice that she had a listener to her song. 
As she bent over her tub, she would sing softly to herself 
the words: 


“There is a happy land, 
Far, far away,” 


and now and then she would stop her work and straighten 
up, and turning her sightless eyes towards the sky, would 
change the tune and sing at the top of her voice until the 
whole woods seemed full of the song: 


“There is a land of pure delight 
Where saints immortal dwell, 
Infinite day excludes the night 

And pleasures banish pain.” 


After a while the young man made his presence known 
and said to her, “Auntie, I see you are blind.” 

‘No, Massa, I is not blind, I can’t see you, nor dese 
trees and rocks, nor dese yer mountains, but I can see into 
de kingdom, I can see de ‘Happy land, far, far away.’” — 


748 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


The student proud of his education and attainments was 
taught a lesson. He went away silent and thoughtful, and 
afterward said that it was not any eloquent sermon that 
brought him to Christ but the forest song of the happy 
negro woman. 


No. 762. | 
“Q LOVE THAT WILL NOT LET ME GO.” 


Rev. Grorce MATHESON. 


“Written,” the author says, “Gn the Manse of Innellan 
one summer evening in 1882. It was composed with extreme 
rapidity, and I felt myself rather in the position of one 
being dictated to, than of an original artist. I was suffering 
from extreme mental distress, and the hymn was the fruit 
of pain.” Innellan was the place in Argylshire, Scotland, 
where the author was the minister. He became blind in 
boyhood, but in spite of this he graduated with honors, and 
became a useful minister. 


No. 763. 
“WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS.” 


Isaac WATTS. 


“IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST I GLORY.” 


J. BOwRING. 


A celebrated French infidel once told the brilliant French 
statesman Talleyrand of his chagrin at his lack of success 
in devising a scheme which should supersede Christianity. 
He had endeavored to bring into vogue a system of bene- 
volence and religion based on rationalism, but had not been 
able to produce a system that people would accept. “What 
shall I do?” asked he of Talleyrand. 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 749 


“T hardly know,” was the reply, “what you can do? Still,” 
said he, after a moment’s pause, and with a smile, “there is 
one plan you might try.” 

“What is it?” eagerly asked the other. 

“T recommend to you,” said Talleyrand, “that you be 
crucified for mankind, and rise again the third day.” The 
reply came like a flash of lightning, and the infidel reformer 
stood for a moment awed by the stupendous fact suggested 
to him, 

C. S. Roprnson. 


No. 764. 
“JAPHET” (Tune). 


This tune first appeared in Robinson’s “Laudes Domint” 
in 1884. It is an arrangement of the music in Rubinstein’s 
“Song of the Children of Japhet” in “The Tower of Babel,” 
and takes its name from this. The arrangement is by Mr. 
Charles Fitzsimmons, organist of the Madison Avenue 
Presbyterian Church, New York. 


No. 765. 
“ELLERTON” (Tune). 


E. J. Hopkins. 


This was composed for the hymn beginning: 
“Savior, again to Thy dear Name we raise.” 


by John Ellerton, for whom the tune is named. This tune 
is now usually printed with four parts, but as originally 
written and used, it had a common melody running through 
it all, but the harmonies were changed for each stanza of 
the hymn. 


750 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 766. 
“CQ LOVE, WHO FORMEDST ME TO WEAR.” 


JOHANN SCHEFFLER. 
C. WInKworTH, Translator. 


In 1722, a German missionary in Madras sang this hymn, 
and was so delighted with it, that he wished his native 
scholars to share it with him. He began to work upon a 
Malabar rendering of it the same evening, and did not rest 
until he had finished it, two hours after midnight. His 
version met with such success that he translated more 
than a hundred hymns from the German into the native 
tongue, and they are still sung in Southern India. 

C. S. RoBinson. 


No. 767. 


“SOMETIMES A LIGHT SURPRISES.” 


WILLIAM COWPER. 


It is sometimes of interest to know the source from which 
a poet draws his inspiration. In the margin of the “Olney 
Hymns” where this hymn first appeared Cowper puts a 
reference to let us know that the phrase in the last two 
lines of the second stanza: 


“Let the unknown to-morrow 
Bring with it what it may.” 


was taken from Matthew 6:34, “Take, therefore, no 
thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought 
for the things of itself, sufficient unto the day is the evil 
thereof,” and that the thought of the first lines of the last 
stanza, come from the prophecy of Habakuk, 3: 17-18: 
“Although the fig tree shall not blossom,” ete. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 751 


No. 768. 
“AND ARE WE YET ALIVE?” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


The author’s title to this hymn was “At the Meeting of 
Friends,” and Methodists have honored it, by using it al- 
most without exception as the opening hymn at the annual 
meetings of their Conference. 


Rev. Dr. Thomas H. Stockton of Philadelphia, when near 
death, had lingered on beyond what any of his friends had 
thought it possible for him to do. He had fallen into a 
sleep from which none of those near him expected he would 
awake on.earth, when suddenly he roused himself and see- 
ing that he was still in the flesh, he repeated the first stanza 
of this hymn. 


No. 769. 
“AND CANST THOU, SINNER, SLIGHT.” 


Mrs. AsicaAit B. Hype. 


It was at the house of Rev. Lavius Hyde, in Ellington, 
Connecticut, that Mrs. Phoebe Brown was asked by the 
lady who was her next-door neighbor, why she walked along 
the roadside in the twilight, until near her house, and then 
went back again. This was the discourteous question 
which drew the poetic answer from Mrs. Brown, which has 
become almost a classic among us: 


“T love to steal awhile away 
From little ones and care, 
And spend the hours of setting day 
In gratitude and prayer.” 


752 STORIES OF THE GREAT. 


The wife of the minister was the friend of the poor painter’s 
wife who wrote the verse and she herself wrote several 
hymns. This one was sent to Rey. Ashael Nettleton, and 
was often used by him in revival services in the New Eng- 


land States. 


No. 770. 
“A PILGRIM THROUGH THIS LONELY WORLD.” 


Str Epwarp Denny, 1796. 


John Gambold, Bishop of the Moravian Church in Eng- 
land, and a hymn writer of some repute, wrote a poem en- 
titled “John’s Description of Jesus,” in which occurs this 
passage: : 


“Cheerful He was to us! 
But let me tell you, sons, He was within 
A pensive man, and always had a load 
upon His spirits.” 


These-lines are placed at the head of Sir Edward Denny’s 
hymn in the book in which it first appeared, and the hymn 
is evidently based upon the quotation. 


No. 771. 


“ACQUAINT THYSELF QUICKLY, O SINNER, WITH 
GOD.” 


Wituiam Knox, 1789-1825. 


A farmer’s son in Scotland, the tenant of fertile farms 
under a Scottish Duke, became dissipated, with the usual 
result of loss of property and place. Then he drifted to 














HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 753 


Edinburgh, and obtained employment by writing for the 
newspapers of that city. Then he began to write a cer- 
tain style of poetry in pensive vein, and these pieces he 
collected into little books and published them. This hymn 
is one of these, and it is based on the words of Eliphaz, the 
Temanite, one of Job’s “Miserable Comforters” as they 
are found in Job, 22: 21, 27, and 28: “Acquaint now thy- 
self with him, and be at peace. ‘Thereby good shall come 
to thee. Thou shalt make thy prayer unto him, and he 
shall hear thee and thou shalt pay thy vows. Thou shalt 
also decree a thing and it shall be established unto thee, 
and the light shall shine upon thy ways.” 


No. 772. 
“AWAKE, MY SOUL, AND WITH THE SUN.” 
“GLORY TO THEE, MY GOD, THIS NIGHT.” 


THomas Ken. 


Those who are troubled with insomnia will find a fellow 
sufferer in the author of-our splendid doxology, and will 
appreciate some of his verses which he called “Anodynes.” 
They were composed during the night hours when sleep for- 
sook him, and sometimes in hours of pain by day. One of 
these reads: 


“Pain keeps me walking in the night; 
I longing lie for morning light; 
Methinks the sluggish sun 
Forgets he this day’s course must run. 
O heavenly torch! Why this delay 
In giving us our wonted day? 
I feel my watch, I tell my clock, 
I hear each crowing of the cock; 


754 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Even Egypt, when three days 
The heavens withheld the solar rays 
And all in thickest darkness dwelt, 
Night more affecting never felt.” 


The line “I feel my watch” is explained by the fact that — 
the sleepless bishop had a watch so constructed that he 
could by his fingers “discern the time to half a quarter of 
an hour.” This watch still exists and is preserved as a 
precious relic. Another of his “Anodynes” is as follows: 


“As in the night I restless lie, 

I the watch-candle keep in eye; : 
The innocent I often blame : 
For the slow wasting of its flame. | 
My curtain oft I draw away, : 
Eager to catch the morning ray; 

But when the morning gilds the skies, 

The morning no relief supplies.” 


the sun” was a favorite with the author himself, and it is 
said that he often sang it himself to the accompaniment 


Ken’s morning hymn beginning “Awake my soul and with 
of his lute, when he rose from his bed. 


No. 773. 
“PRECIOUS PROMISE GOD HATH GIVEN.” 


NATHANIEL NILEs, 1835. 


The author of this hymn was a lawyer doing business in 
New York City, and residing in Morristown, New Jersey. 
He wrote it on the margin of a newspaper in the railway 
car between his home and his office. 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 755 


No. 774. 
“FAIREST LORD JESUS! RULER OF ALL NATIONS.” 


Richard Storrs Willis is neither the author nor the trans- 
lator, but may be called the discoverer of this hymn. It 
comes from Westphalia, and it with the melody attached 
called the “Crusaders’ Hymn” was wont to be sung ac- 
_ cording to tradition by German Knights of the Crusade, 
in the twelfth century while marching to Jerusalem. The 
popularity of both words and music in Germany may be in- 
ferred from the statement made by Mr. Willis that a few 
years ago in a missionary meeting in Germany, three voices 
began the singing of it, but before they had proceeded far 
hundreds had joined them in the singing. 


No. 776. 
“SOW IN THE MORN THY SEED.” 
JAMES MONTGOMERY. 


Every Whitsunday (Seventh Sunday after Easter) all 
the Sunday schools in the town of Sheffield, England, where 
Montgomery lived were accustomed to meet in one of the 
public squares of the city and exchange greetings and sing 
together. For a quarter of a century, Mr. Montgomery 
composed a new hymn each year for-the use of these meet- 
ings. This was the hymn written for the year 1832. As 
many as twenty thousand children sometimes joined in 
these open-air services. 


756 . STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 776. 
“PEACE, DOUBTING HEART! MY GOD’S I AM.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


In 1826 an English mail boat named the M aria in the 
West India Ocean was within sight of the Island of Antigua, 
with a number of missionaries with their families on board, 
when a terrible storm arose; the boat was wrecked, and 
all were lost except one lady, the wife of one of the mis- 
sionaries. She tells the story that when the storm arose 
and consternation spread among the passengers and crew, 
a little boy, the son of one of the missionaries, commenced 
singing a stanza of this hymn: 


“When passing ‘through the watery deep, 
I ask in faith His promised aid, 
The waves an awful distance keep 
And shrink from my devoted head; 
Fearless their violence I dare, 
They cannot harm for God is there!” 


and did much by his singing to calm the fears of the terror- 
stricken people. 


No. 777. 
“LIGHT OF THE LONELY PILGRIM’S HEART.” 


Epwarp Denny, 1796. 


Sir Edward Denny was an Irish Baron, a member of 
the denomination known as “Brethren.’’ He was a firm 
believer in the second coming of Christ and wrote this 
hymn as a prayer for His speedy appearance, giving to it 
the title, “The Heart Watching for the Morning.” The 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 757 


sense in which we usually use the hymn is different from 
the one he had in mind when he wrote it. 


No. 778. 
“SHALL WE GATHER AT THE RIVER.” 


Rev. Ropert Lowry. 


This hymn was written on a sultry afternoon in July, 
1864, in the author’s study in Elliott Place in Brooklyn, 
New York, and when he had written the hymn, he sat 
down at his parlor organ and composed the tune for it, 
which has ever since been used with it. 


No. 779. 
“SERVANT OF GOD, WELL DONE! REST FROM .. .” 


JAMES MONTGOMERY. 


A Methodist minister by the name of Thomas Taylor, 
preaching one Sunday in an English town declared that he 
hoped to die an old soldier of Jesus Christ, with his sword 
in his hand. Although then in apparently good health, he 
died the next day, and James Montgomery wrote this hymn 
to his memory. 


No. 780. 
“THE CHURCH’S ONE FOUNDATION.” 


Rev. S. J. STONE. 


“When the Pan Angelican Synod some few years ago 
was held in St. Paul’s in London, the whole body of dig- 


758 . STORIES OF THE GREAT 


nitaries, belonging to the whole English Establishment, 
entered the cathedral in the presence of an immense con- 
gregation, which rose to receive the procession, singing: 


“The Church’ s one Foundation is Jesus Christ the Lord.” 
RoBINSON. 


No. 781. 


“THE VOICE OF FREE GRACE CRIES, ESCAPE TO THE 
MOUNTAIN.” 


Rev. RiGHARD BURDSALL. 


The author of this hymn was one day about the year 
1796, passing a public house, or what we should in these 
days call a barroom, and as he passed he overheard a song, 
the air of which pleased his fancy so much that, though no 
poet and having never tried to be, he wrote these words to 
fit the barroom melody, and they have poetry enough in 
them to have floated them along to our time, and religion 
enough to have kept them in our church hymn books. 


No. 782. 
“PRAISE TO THE HOLIEST IN THE HEIGHT.” 


Rev. Joun H. Newman. 


We have several hymns that were written as parts of 
novels, and here is one that occurs in a drama, or to be 
precise a dramatic poem, by Cardinal Newman. The poem 
is entitled, “The Dream of Gerontius.” In it Gerontius 
dies and holds a dialogue with an angel, hears choirs of 
angels sing, and this hymn he hears in his dream, sung by 
the “Fifth Choir of Angelicals.”’ 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 759 
No. 7838. 
“LORD, A LITTLE BAND AND LOWLY.” 
Mrs. M. E. SHELLY. 


“At a Sunday school meeting in Manchester, the Rev. 
John Curwen one evening gave a lecture on singing. He 
sang a very pretty and simple tune, to which he said he 
had no suitable words, and wished that someone would 
write a hymn to it. I wrote these verses and gave them to 
him after the close of the meeting.” So says the author of 
the hymn. The tune which gave rise to the hymn was a 
German one, and has attained great popularity in English 
Sunday school collections under the name of “Glover.” 


No. 784. : 
“LORD, I KNOW THY GRACE IS NIGH ME.” 
Rev. H. D. Gans. 


While living in New York, Dr. Ganse was called to visit 
a family in Freehold, New Jersey, which was in affliction. 
While there, at night as he crossed the threshold of his 
bedroom the first couplet of this hymn ran through his 
mind, unannounced. It was midwinter in a farmhouse and 
his room had no fire, so he composed the remainder of 
the hymn in bed, in the darkness, and completed it as he 
says “with no little feeling” before he slept. 


No. 785. 


“ON JORDAN’S STORMY BANKS I STAND.” 


Rev. SAMUEL STENNETT. 


“T’ll tell you what, I heard singin’ to-night that made me 
wish I was in heaven, or good enough to go there,” said an 


760 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


old backwoodsman to his wife, as, entering their log hut, 
he sat down to his evening meal. 

“Where did you hear it?” she asked. 

“At our neighbor’s up yonder. They must feel something 
I don’t know about, or they couldn’t sing so.” 

“When they first came here,” said his wife, “I thought 
they were proud and stiff; but they were real good neigh- 
bors, and I heard after they were good church folks too.” 

“Well,” said he, “I mean to go to church tomorrow, and 
see if I can’t hear some singin’ like that.” 

The singer knew that her neighbors were ignorant, rough, 
and unbelieving, nearing the decline of life, and unwilling 
to be approached on the subject of religion. One glorious 
summer evening, as the sun was going down, the lady seated 
herself at the window, and involuntarily tuned her voice 
to sing. When near the close of the hymn, she cast her eyes 
to the field where her neighbor was at work, and saw that 
he was listening intently. Instantly the thought flashed 
into her mind, “Oh, if I could raise that poor man. to think 
of heaven.” She closed her refrain, and then commenced: 


“On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,” 


singing it “with the spirit and the understanding also.” 
And as she sang, the old man listened, almost spellbound. 
The singer wished to glorify God by leading one of His 
creatures to think of Him. “I will sing God’s praises when- 
ever he can hear me, and perhaps he may be led to praise 
the Lord himself,” was her resolve. The next Lord’s day 
the old man was at church. This cheered the lady, and she 
said, “I will sing whenever he comes.” Ere another week 
was closed he was at work again. This time she sang: 


“Just as I am, without one plea, 
But that Thy blood was shed for me.” 


Slowly but distinctly she sang, that he might take in the 
full meaning of the words, and feeling their sweet pathos 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 761 


in her inmost soul she sang the hymn. The listener shook 
his head, and rubbed his hand quickly over his eyes. The 
next Lord’s day evening he was among the people of God, 
earnestly inquiring the way of salvation. Being thus suc- 
cessful in bringing the husband in the way of life, the 
singer next tried to draw the wife, and so one day invited 
her into the parlor to hear her piano. She had never seen 
or heard such an instrument, and was wonderstruck. The 
lady called her daughters to her side and all joined in sing- 
ing, “All hail the power of Jesus’ Name,” to the old tune, 
“Coronation.” 

“Do you like that?” asked the lady. 

“Oh, it’s nice. I b’l’eve I heered that tune somewhere 
when I was a girl, but I’ve forgot.” 

“Probably you heard it at church. It is often sung there. 
We cannot sing the praises of Jesus too often, for He came 
to save us poor sinners.” Then they all sang, “Come, hum- 
ble sinner, in whose breast,” etc. When the woman arose 
to go, she was invited to “Come again.” 

“Oh, U’ll come often if I can hear you sing.” 

“Mother, you take a strange way to win souls!” 

“Why nob, my daughter? Has not God commanded that 
whatsoever we do, should be done to His glory? And if 
He has given us voices to sing, should we not use them in 
His service? There are many ears that will listen to a 
hymn for the sake of the tune, that will not hear a word 
from the Bible. Our voices and our musical instruments 
should all be employed in winning lost souls.” 


No. 786. 
“GOD OF ALL GRACE AND MAJESTY.” 


Rev. CHARLES WESLEY. 


Mr. Wesley was at one time with a large party of friends 
who had met to dine together, when the whole party was 


762 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


exceedingly amused at some anecdote related either by 
Mr. Wesley himself or one of the preachers who accom- 
panied him. The hearty laugh was followed, as usual, by 
a momentary silence; and just when the conversation was 
about to be resumed, Mr. Wesley stood up, and all eyes 
were, of course, turned to him. He paused a moment, and 
then lifting up his hand in a manner quite his own repeated 
with solemn voice a stanza of this hymn: 


“Still may I walk as in Thy sight, 
My strict observer see; 

And Thou by reverent love unite 
My child-like heart to Thee; 

Still let me, till my days are past 
At Jesus’ feet abide; 

So shall He lift me up at last 
And seat me at His side.” 


The effect may be easily imagined. It was as happy as in- 
stantaneous. The full stream of feeling was diverted into 
the right channel, and the pleasures of the parlor, became 
a preparation for the services of the sanctuary. 


No. 787. 
“HOSANNA BE THE CHILDREN’S SONG.” 


JAMES MoNnTGOMERY. 


In the year 1829 the author of this hymn wrote as 
follows: 

“It has occurred to me that a Sunday school Jubilee in 
the year 1831, fifty years from the origin of Sunday schools, 
might be the means of extraordinary and happy excitement 
to the public mind in favor of these institutions.” The 
suggestion met with general approval and the Jubilee was 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 763 
arranged for September 14, 1831, the birthday of Robert 
Raikes. All over Great Britain immense gatherings were 
held, and the largest churches and public halls were in- 
adequate to contain the throngs of friends of Sunday schools 
who assembled. As had been predicted by Mr. Mont- 
gomery, the Sunday school as a religious institution re- 
ceived a tremendous impetus from these Jubilee meétings. 
It was fitting that the man who had first conceived the idea 
of the Jubilee should furnish for it its opening song. Mr. 
Montgomery was asked to write a hymn for the occasion 
and this hymn was his response to the invitation. It was 
sung on that day in all the Jubilee Assemblies in Great 
Britain, and took at once a favorite place in the “Sunday 
school song collections.” 


No. 788. 
“ON THE MOUNTAIN’S TOP APPEARING.” 


Rev. Tuomas KE tty. 


A hundred years ago there were no ocean cables or 
swift steamers to bear quick news of the world’s doings. 
The London Missionary Society which had at its first meet- 
ing decided that the island of Tahiti should be its first 
mission field, was compelled to wait for three long years 
before any tidings came from the missionaries they had sent 
there. Each year upon the anniversary of its organization 
a great meeting was held in London at which were gathered 
the friends of missions from all the British Isles. Reports 
were heard, addresses listened to, sermons preached, and 
for each annual meeting some poet wrote a hymn. Among 
the most ardent of its friends was an Irish preacher cele- 
brated alike for his scholarly learning, his deep piety, and 
his active interest in every work of philanthropy. Just 
before the fourth gathering of the Society, news had come 
from the little band of workers far away in the Pacific 


764 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


Sea, that they had been kindly received by the natives, 
their message heard with attention and interest, and they 
entertained bright hopes of success in their work. This 
news soon found its way to the Irish preacher who was poet 
as well as preacher, and drew from him a hymn “On the 
good news from Tahiti” based on the words of Isaiah: 
“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of Him 
that bringeth good tidings that publisheth peace.” The 
meeting in London following the reception of this “good 
news from Tahiti” was a very enthusiastic one, and Thomas 
Kelly’s hymn was there first sung. 


No. 789. 
“DAILY, DAILY, SING THE PRAISES.” 


This hymn written in England by a clergyman of the 
Church of England, as a processional hymn, to be sung by 
boys as they marched into a quiet church in Yorkshire, 
found its way into the heart of Africa, and translated into 
the language of the land, became the death song of another 
band of boys as they passed through the gates of martyr- 
dom into the Temple not made with hands. It happened 
at the Uganda Mission, where Bishop Hannington was 
afterwards murdered, on January, 1885, and the story is 
simply told in an English paper: 

“Two native lads who had been kidnapped, but subse- 
quently released, reported that they had been taken with 
Kakumba, and Ashe’s boy as also Serwanga, a tall, fine 
fellow, a baptized lad, whom Majasi, the leader of the 
hostile party, had caught, and Duta’s wife Sarah and her 
child, to a place outside the capital. That Serwanga, 
Kakumba, and Ashe’s boy had been tortured by having 
their arms cut off, and they were then bound alive to a 
scaffolding under which a fire was made, and they were 
slowly burned to death. Majasi and his men mocked them 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 765 


and bade them pray now if Jesus Christ would rescue them 
from his hands. The dear lads clung to their faith and in 
the fire they sang: 


“Daily, daily, sing the praises 
Of the city God hath made.” 


No. 790. 
“TO-DAY THOU LIVEST YET.” 


A young law student was ill in Berlin. The doctor 
- directed his bed to be moved to a corner of the room where 
the light would not trouble him. On this side of the room 
there was but a thin partition between him and the occu- 
pants of the adjoining room, and before he had lain there 
long he heard these words repeated over and over again 
by some one on the other side of the partition: 


“To-day thou livest yet, 
To-day turn thou to God! 
For ere to-morrow comes 
Thou may’st be with the clod.” 


These words fixed themselves in the sick man’s memory 
and led to his conversion. It happened that a little boy had 
not learned his lesson at school that day and these lines 
were the part he had been unable to commit to memory, 
and his father had put him into the corner of the room next 
to the place where this sick man lay, to learn the verse and 
he was repeating it over and over to fix it in his mind, I 
would like to have those who believe that events come by 
chance, tell me how many shakes of the dice box would 
probably bring about. such a coincidence of time and place 
and circumstances as were required to bring that sick sinner 
into the reach of that child’s voice just when he was 
repeating that verse. It is easier to believe that: 


766 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


“Deep in unfathomable mines 
Of never failing skill. 

He treasures up His bright designs 
And works His sovereign will.” 


No. 791. 
“COME, LORD, THE DROOPING SINNER CHEER.” 


In January, 1759, a woman named Hannah Harrison was 
giving an exhortation at a Methodist meeting in York- 
shire, England. Five or six young men entered the room 
just as she was repeating the stanza: 


“Come, Lord, the drooping sinner cheer, 
Nor let thy chariot wheels delay! 
Appear, in my poor heart, appear! 
My God! My Savior, come away.” 


One of these young men twenty-two years of age, was 
struck with the words, and said, in writing of it afterwards, 
“T was cut to the heart. I could neither speak nor stir, 
I was convinced there was something in religion which I 
had never known. I returned home but these words, ‘My 
God! My Savior, come away,’ were continually sounding 
in my heart, and from that time another young man and 
I forsook our trifling company.” This was Mr. John Atlay. 
He was converted and afterwards became a_ successful 
preacher of the Gospel. 


No. 792. 
“MY JESUS, STAY THOU BY ME,” 


In the year 1796 the army of France, which was then 
at war with Germany, was defeated by the Army of Arch- 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 767 


duke Charles. A horde of fugitives from the defeated army 
swept through a little town angry at their defeat and glad 
of an opportunity for revenge. So they plundered the town, 
murdering such of its inhabitants as had not fled to the 
forests, and set fire to the buildings. A German mother 
was watching at the bedside of a child too sick to be taken 
to the forest to which her neighbors all had fled. She bolted 
her cottage door, and sinking to her knees by the cradle 
of the sick child began to pray. Outside she heard the 
shouts of the soldiers and the shrieks of their hapless vic- 
tims. At last her own door was broken in and a French 
soldier rushed in with bayonet pointed at her. She laid 
her hands over her child as if to protect it and raised her 
voice aloud: 


“My Jesus, stay thou by me 

And let no foe come nigh me 

Safe sheltered by thy wing, 

But should the foe alarm me 

O! let him never harm me 

But still thine angels round me sing.” 


The soldier stopped midway in the room, and stood while 
she prayed, and then stepped softly to the cradle; he laid 
his hand gently on the sick child’s head, his lips moved, 
as if to speak, the tears fell down his cheeks, he gave his 
hand to the woman, and walked away in silence. By and 
by, she arose from her place and looked out of her window; 
she saw the soldier still standing at her door, and there he 
remained, protecting her and her home from the assaults 
of his comrades until the troop at last marched away from 
the village and then he joined them. 


768 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 793. 


“JESUS, AT THY COMMAND I LAUNCH INTO THE 
DEEP.” 


AuTHOR UNKNOWN. FIRST APPEARED ABOUT 1774. 
“O’er the gloomy hills of darkness.” 
Rev. WiuuiAM WILuiAMs, 1772. 


Early in the morning of the tenth of August, 1796, a vessel 
swung out into the river Thames at London, to start upon 
a voyage which was to mark an epoch in the history of the 
world. A flag of new design floated at her masthead. White 
doves upon a purple ground bore in their beaks each one 
an olive branch of green. Upon the deck there stood a band 


of thirty men, who had offered their services for a new enter- — 


prise. Upon the river’s bank had gathered a great crowd 


of those who were their friends or friends of the enterprise — 
in which they were engaged. And there were tears and | 


prayers and sad farewells, for neither those who went, nor 
those who bade them go, looked for a meeting until they 


should meet in heaven. This was the Duff, the first Foreign — 
Mission ship, and this was the first flag of Foreign Mis-— 
sions, and this the first band of Foreign Missionaries start-_ 


ing on the first Foreign Mission of modern times. And as 
the ship moved slowly down the river, the friends who were 
waving farewells from the shore heard wafted to their ears 
from their friends who stood upon the deck of the ship 
the first song of Foreign Missions: 


“Jesus, at thy command 
I launch into the deep 
And leave my native land 
Where sin lulls all asleep 
For thee I would the world resign 
And sail to heaven with Thee and Thine.” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 769 


Seven months later on a Sunday morning, March 5, 1797, 
this same mission band, which had been all this time tossed 
upon the waves of the deep, stood together on the deck of 
the Duff looking off at a low range of hills which stood 
dimly outlined against the sky. It was the Island of 
Tahiti, in the South Pacific, to whose inhabitants they had 
come to tell the Gospel story. In a few hours the canoes 
of the Islanders were dancing in the waves all about the 
ship, and many of the men had clambered up her sides, and 
swarmed over her deck, to trade or steal. And here in full 
sight of the land where they were to labor, and above 
whose hills hung the gloom of heathen darkness, these mis- 
sionaries gathered close together on the deck of their ship 
and stilled the babel of unintelligible sounds about them 
with the music of their hymn, which marks the beginning 
of that wonderful missionary work, which has filled the 
Islands of the Pacific with the light of Christian civilization. 


No. 794. 
“STABAT MATER” (Music). 
G. A. Rosstnt. 


After Rossini had retired from public life, and had re- 
solved to write no more music for publication, a celebrated 
Spaniard (Don Vazela) asked him to write music for the 
great Latin hymn, “Stabat Mater,” not to be made public 
but to be performed in his own private chapel. Rossini 
although very gay in his younger days was a devout 
Catholic, and quite in sympathy with the subject, and so 
in spite of his resolution, he accepted the commission and 
wrote the music. An accident gave it to the public. Don 
Vazela died, his heirs sold the manuscript, and in an in- 
credibly short time, the music of “Stabat Mater’ was being 
sung in the Catholic churches all over Europe. 


770 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 796. 
“DAY OF JUDGMENT, DAY OF WONDERS.” 


Rev. JoHN NEwrTOoN. 


John Newton kept a diary, and from it we get many a 
glimpse of his daily life and work among the people of the 
little town of Olney. One day in 1775 he wrote in his diary: 
“T usually make one hymn a week to expound at the Great 
House.” The “Great House” was where Newton and 
Cowper gathered the people together for a weekly meeting. 
Newton’s hymns have been criticised as “unpoetic,” “tame,” 
“poor,” “bald,” and “matter-of-fact,” and yet they are 
hymns that live, and the reason is that they are hymns 
that can be “expounded.” A hymn that can be expounded 
is a hymn that will live, because it will fit into human 
experience, and will touch human want. This is one of the 
hymns which Newton wrote “to expound.” In his diary 
he records that on Sunday evening, June 26, 1775, he spoke 
from a hymn on the day of judgment, and he records that 
the hymn ‘took him the most cf two days to finish.” The - 
hymn has become one of the most popular of Newton’s 
hymns, and has been translated into several languages. 


No. 796. 
“CRAWFORD” (Tune). 


In Haydn’s Oratorio of “The Creation,” in the account 
of the third day of Creation, after a recitative with the 
words taken from Genesis, “And God said let the earth 
bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit tree 
yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself, upon 
the earth; and it was so,” then comes a soprano solo, be- 
ginning with the words from Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 771 


“With verdure clad the fields appear, Delightful to the 
ravished sense.” It is No. 9 of the Oratorio, and this solo 
forms the air of this tune we know as “Crawford.” 


No. 797. 
“THE CREATION” (Tune). 


The words for Haydn’s Oratorio, “The Creation” with 
the exception of those taken verbatim from the Book of 
Genesis, are arranged from Milton’s “Paradise Lost.” 
Number 12 begins with the Biblical account of the fourth 
day of Creation. A recitative with the words, “And God 
said, Let there be lights in the firmament of Heaven, to 
divide the day from the night, and to give light upon the 
earth; And let them be for signs and for seasons, and for 
days and for years. He made the stars also.” Then follows 
another recitative with words from Milton, “In splendor 
bright is rising now the sun, and darts his rays; A joyful, 
happy spouse. A giant proud and glad, To run his meas- . 
ured course. With softer beams and milder light, steps on 
the silver moon through silent night. The space immense 
of the azure sky innumerous hosts of radiant orbs adorn. 
And the sons of God announced the fourth day, in song 
divine, proclaiming thus his power.” Then comes the 
Angel’s song in perhaps the grandest chorus of the whole 
Oratorio, beginning with the words: 


“The heavens are telling the glory of God.” 


The air of this chorus forms the air of this tune, to which 
is appropriately sung the hymn of Addison’s: 


“The spacious firmament on high 
With all the blue ethereal sky.” 


772 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 798. 
“NOBODY KNOWS DE TROUBLE I SEE.” 


(Negro Slave Song.) 


During and after the war of the Rebellion, the lands of 
many Southerners known to be actually engaged in the 
Rebellion, were confiscated by the United States, and in 
many places parcels of these lands sufficient for homes and 
small farms were assigned by the government to the negroes. 
At the close of the war an effort was made by the original 
owners to regain possession of their lands, and great dis- 
tress was brought upon the negroes, who had in many cases 
put these lands under cultivation, built- little cabins upon 
them, and were growing crops for the support of their 
families. As Commander of the Freedman’s Bureau, Major 
General 0. O. Howard, was often made the arbitrator in 
these contests for the possession of the lands. It is related 
that at one time shortly after the war, the negroes upon 
the Sea Islands had come into great trouble over an attempt 
. to dispossess them of their homes, by the former owners. 
On the one hand was a lawyer from Charleston, South 
Carolina, urging the claim of the old slave masters, and 
on the other the plaint of the defenceless negroes appealing 
for protection. While awaiting a delay in the proceedings, 
the General asked the people to strike up one of their songs. 
There was a moment of silence and then in the midst of the 
assembly an old colored woman started in alone: 


“Nobody knows de trouble I see.” 


As she advanced with the song one after another fell in 
until the whole assembly had joined. The melody was so 
affecting and the words so expressive of the condition in 
which the singers were placed, that the General, although 
sitting in the capacity of judge, as well as others who were 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 773 


with him, was scarcely able to refrain from tears, and the 
effect was more powerful than any argument could have 
produced. 


No. 799. 
“BANGOR” (Tune). 


There are at least two tunes by this name. One is a 
Welsh tune of unknown authorship. The other was com- 
posed by William Tans’ur, an English composer, whose 
music was published in 1736. This tune was the innocent 
cause of an incident which seems ludicrous now. In the 
early part of the last century, sacred music in Scotland had 
nearly ceased to exist. The power of reading music was 
nearly a lost art, and the number of tunes in use was 
reduced to twelve. By long traditional use these tunes 
came to be regarded by the common people as hardly less 
inspired than the Psalms which were sung to them. Dr. 
Guthrie told a story of an old servant in his family whose 
reverence for the old Psalms was so great that she would 
not so much as let her eyes rest on the words of a hymn, 
and who revered the tunes as highly as the words, and who 
when new hymns and new tunes were spoken of as likely 
to come into use, vowed that she “Wad sing the Psalms 
o’David, to the tunes o’David, and nothing else.” 


The late Dr. Fletcher of London relates that one day the 
precentor in the church of his father at. Leith, began to sing 
“Bangor” which was a new tune, and not one of the twelve. 
He-had scarcely begun to sing when the minister jumped to 
his feet and taking the great pulpit Bible in both hands 
brought it down with all his force on the unsuspecting head 
of the poor precentor, daring him ever to start such a tune 
in his Kirk again. 


774 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


No. 800. 
“OQ, BLESSED SAVIOR, IN THY: LOVE; 
Rev. JOSEPH STENNETT. 


In these days when the language we speak contains fifty 
thousand hymns, and of the making of hymn books there 
is no end, it is difficult to conceive of a time not very far 
back when not a dozen hymns existed in the English 
language. Paraphrases of the Psalms were numerous enough 
and for the most part as unpoetic as numerous, but of 
hymns there was none, and none called for. Curious opin- 
ions prevailed. By many it was urged that only Christians 
should sing in church. Congregational singing was objected 
to, because, “when all speak none can hear.” Singing words 
which others had written, it was urged opened the way for 
the use of prayers which others had written. Violent con- 
troversies broke out among the churches, as to who should 
sing, what should be sung, and even as to singing at all in 
church. One of the first concessions made to the singing of 
hymns in the regular church services, was, to permit of the 
singing of a hymn at the close of the Communion Service. 
To this objections were effectually silenced by reference to 
the example of Christ as given in Matthew, 26:30, “and 
when they had sung an hymn they went out into the Mount 
of Olives.” Such hymns were first sung in 1673. And 
it was for this use that the Rev. Joseph Stennett, a Baptist 
preacher of some celebrity who lived in London, composed 
and published a little pamphlet of thirty-seven hymns and 
among them this one. 


No. 801. 
“COME, MY SOUL, THOU MUST BE WAKING.” 


F. R. L. F. Von, 1654—1699 (Lutheran). 


A life like that of Gladstone refreshes us, by its constant 
reminder that a life amid the turmoil of politics is not of 


HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 775 


necessity inconsistent with a life of earnest piety. Germany 
as well as England has had such a man, in the author of 
this hymn. He died two centuries ago, after twenty years 
of constant and active service in various political capacities, 
but it has been said of him that he was not more dis- 
tinguished, by genius and worldly distinction, than by 
Christian holiness. This hymn received a remarkable illus- 
tration in the closing moments of its author’s life. It was 
early morning and the first rays of the dawn broke into his 
sick chamber. He asked that he might be taken to the 
window, that he might look once more at the rising sun. 
After looking steadily at it for some time, he cried out, 
“Oh! if the appearance of this earthly and created thing 
is so beautiful, how shall I be enraptured by the unspeak- 
able glory of the Creator himself!” The thought and the 
effort to express it overpowered him and he fell back ex- 
hausted and died. 


No. 802. 
“JESUS, MY ALL” (Tune). 


There is a very pretty romance connected with this piece 
of music. A young Irish surgeon practising his profession 
in Dublin, became involved in a scandal and was com- 
pelled to quit the country. He went to England, and soon 
there occurred the first of a series of incidents which by 
and by gave to him the title of “The Fortunate Irishman.” 
A lady’s carriage overturned and he was first to reach her 
and to offer assistance. She was somewhat injured, and 
asked him to travel with her to her home in London. There 
she gave him a generous gift, and a general invitation to 
her house, where he soon after met a young lady of noble 
birth, who fell in love with him at first sight. Our young 
surgeon had neither money nor title, and to prevent a 
marriage of the young lovers, all sorts of expedients were 
resorted to by the lady’s family. One of the expedients 


776 STORIES OF THE GREAT 


was the sending her away on several journeys. On one of 
these journeys while at the town of Bath, the love sick girl 
wrote a song to her absent darling, which she set to an 
ancient Irish melody he had often sung to her: 


“What’s this dull town to me? 
Robin’s not near. 

What was ’t I wished to see, 
What wished to hear? 

Where’s all the joy and mirth 

Made this town a heaven on earth? 

Oh, these all fled with thee, 
Robin Adair.” 


The sequel is soon told, love conquered; the lovers were 
married, enjoyed a happy life, and died over a hundred 


years ago, leaving the story and the song of Robin Adair 
to find their way down to us together. 


No. 803. 
Franz Prerer ScHuBerRT, 1797. 


Schubert was a poor man’s son, and gained his first 
knowledge of music by visits to a piano factory near his 


home, and by practice without a teacher on an old instru- 


ment in his father’s house. When eight years old he com- 
posed his first piece of piano music. At eleven he sang in 
the parish choir, at thirteen he was too poor to buy and so 
was begging music paper from his friends and filling all he 
got with music of his own. At eighteen he composed the 
“Brl King,” one of his most celebrated pieces. From this 
time on everything he touched turned to music. If he saw 
a beautiful poem, his first thought was to set it to musie¢, 
and it was just the same if it was a worthless rhyme. Once 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 777 


when strolling through a little village, he happened to see 
a volume of Shakespeare, and opening it he read: “Hark 
hark, the lark at heaven’s gate sings.” At once he ex- 
claimed “Oh, such a melody has come into my head; If 
only I had music paper at hand.” <A friend drew some lines 
on a bill of fare, and there amid the confusion and noise 
of an inn, he wrote the beautiful song that is known by this 
title. He was obliged to support himself by his composi- 
tions, and so he wrote almost continuously; songs and sym- 
phonies and operas came in rapid succession from his pen, 
yet he was always poor, and at thirty-one he died, lonely 
and disconsolate, leaving behind him more than five hun- 
dred unpublished songs. 


No. 804. 
GIOACHINO ANTONIO ROSssINI. 


A hundred years ago almost, a family of musicians might 
have been seen wandering from town to town in Italy, at- 
tending fairs and other public gatherings, the father play- 
ing the French horn, and the mother singing. With them 
wandered their little son, who soon began to add his voice 
to the songs they played and sang in the Italian villages. 
His pure soprano voice soon attracted the attention of 
priests, and he began to sing in the Romish churches, and 
when eighteen years old to compose. His progress was 
rapid. The composer and his music became very popular 
not only in Italy, but in France and England. Rossini 
was indolent. He often composed in bed, during cold wea- 
ther to save the expense of a fire, and on one such occa- 
sion he had just finished a duet for an opera when it 
slipped from the bed to the floor. He tried to reach it with 
his hand, but failing in this, rather than get out of his warm 
bed to get it, he composed another. 


778 STORIES OF THE GREAT 
No. 805. 
“ON THE FOUNT OF LIFE ETERNAL.” 


Peter DAMIANI, 998—1072. 


Almost a thousand years ago an Italian mother abandoned 
her babe just born. A servant discovered the luckless boy 
and cared for him, until by and by the mother relented and 
received him back again. While he was yet a little boy 
both parents died, and an older brother took him in charge, 
but more as a slave than a brother. He sent him into the 
fields to feed swine. By and by another brother more 
tender-hearted took note of the amiable disposition and 
natural ability of the boy and had him educated.’ The 
boy’s name was Peter, and the name of this brother who 
befriended him was Damian, and so the boy became 
known as “Damian’s Peter” or as it would be in Latin, 
“Peter Damiani.” The scholar soon became a teacher, and 
his progress was rapid. He soon became a monk, and 
then Superior of the Monastery, then founder of new 
monasteries, and soon bishop and cardinal of the Church 
of Rome. He was a “Dr. Parkhurst” among the corrup- 
tions of his times. His protest against the terrible wicked- 
ness of the priests as well as of the people, he put into a 
book, which was appropriately named “The Gomorrah 
Book.” It made a great stir. Books were not printed 
then, but copied by the pen. Those whose crimes were ex- 
posed by “The Gomorrah Book” borrowed it, claiming that 
they wanted to have some copies made, and Peter came near 
never seeing his book again, but at last he got it and it 
has been preserved and handed down, for us to read if we 
wish to. Peter was the originator of a curious fanaticism. 
He found in the monasteries a law that any monk for vio- 
lation of the monastic discipline, might be whipped with 
five strokes, to bring him to his senses. Starting from this 
Peter argued that if five strokes were beneficial, six would 





HYMNS OF THE CHURCH 779 


be more so, and if they were inflicted willingly upon one- 
self, the credit would be greater still. And if these strokes 
would be placed to one’s credit on the account books of 
Heaven, when given for one’s own sins, they certainly 
would if applied for the sins of others. A sort of scale of 
prices was soon established, by which three thousand strokes 
paid off for oneself or one’s friends a year of purgatorial 
punishment. The mania which .we have all read about, 
under the name of flagellation spread far and wide in 
Europe, dying away and reappearing in successive cen- 
turies, and if we congratulate ourselves that our age and 
country is too enlightened to indulge in such a superstition, 
we have only to go to the Californian coast to find it still 
practised by adherents of the Romish. church. And Peter 
Damiani, the abandoned child, the swineherd, monk, car- 
dinal and flagellant, was the author of this hymn. 


avg R ee ; 5 : iS 
‘9 39 ‘Hs Ae 1 Nae ae) st ale . | 
te bonielbal a) Bar 
ance ae 
"haste te base sue caf iat 
BA sre ABs: -gohiatod ae Ao E 
eect e Aig ea ere aes ae 
BF ino Bail) eayige sin "aa trl Oat ajjalle 


fi pee elgs Gaul Bes. Cd BS 


fi: Wee Bai ‘UL OPoiner es of Fires 
pe hl san A. STS etree 


et bexisnbin. oh 1 ap Sanbiane ita 
BER ae cub repel ins orl lig 











INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


A deep and holy awe.. 524 
A life on the ocean wave 718 
A mighty fortress is our 


AxOC er aenea rs ee USL 128 
324 
571 
A pilgrim through this 
lonely world ....... 770 
Abide with me ...... 75 
689 
Acquaint thyself quick- 
ly, O sinner......... 771 
Again the circling sea- 
BOUSY Lellinnete sa sahion 596 
Again the slowly cir- 
cling year ....:.... 
Ah, how shall fallen 
MABTU SY atet Pape 2783s ee teye 628 
Ah! lovely appearance 
recente 50s s FL 446 
Alas and did my Savior 
hee + WE Ft 386 
? 409 
Alexander, Mrs. Cecil 
a MSeereins Siete Pleated Bed 632 
All glory, laud, and 
Honore.) ates 160 
All hail the power of 
Jesus’ name ........ 79 
143 
518 
677 
All people that on . 
earth do dwell ..... 306 
- All praise to Thee, 
eternal Lord ....... 21 
All praise to Thee, my 
God, this night .... 460 
All thanks be to God.: 221 
All ye that pass by, to 
Jesus draw nigh..... 438 
Almost persuaded .... Ae 
38 


544 
708 


NO. PAGE 
Alone, yet not alone 
ami i TG ies came eee 499 522 
Along the banks where 
Babel’s+4 i. See eee 578 589 
Always with us ...... 183 205 
Am I a soldier of the 
CHOSS |. si adds roe 34. «24 
693 686 
Amazing grace, how 
sweet the sound .... 441 475 
And am I only born to 
GIR 555 Boe ee 112 127 
And are we yet alive.. 768 751 
And can it be that I 
should eaineme ace 287 289 
And can we forget in ; 
tasting Nourse wee 350 +369 
And can’st thou sinner 
slight 267, seh eur » a 769 751 
And let this feeble 
body’ dié «4 i:723.27. 265 266 
And must I be to judg- 
MONT Rt eee eee 99 99 
And now another day 
1S 'CONGs . kc eee 257 258 
And they sang a new 
SONG wh? ineicces ost meaes 314 323 
Angels holy, high, and 
lowlyiviee... . sae 653 645 
Arise, my soul, arise... 327 338 
502 526 
Arm of the Lord, 
awake, awake ...... 216 227 
Arne, Thomas Augus- 
fine: tgarcen sae 645 639 
Art thou weary, art 
thou languid ....... 562 574 
565" 807— 
As I glad bid adieu to 
the world’aia37. 20: 157-180 
As thy days, thy ; 
strength shall be.... 437 471 — 


782 


INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


Asleep in Jesus, blessed 
0 
At even ere the sun 


was set .-cccsscsees 574 
“Austria,” tune .----- 584 
“Avon,” tume ..-+---: 593 
Awake and sing the 

SONoweeesee ces 200 
Awake, my soul, and 

with the sun ..------ 712 
Awake, my soul, to 

meet the day ------ 174 

: 466 
Awaked by Sinai’s 
awful sound ...-:-: 570 


Away my unbelieving 


fear cack ues tee coe 447 
Away with our sorrow 
and fear ...+.++++: 89 


Bach, John Sebastian. 509 
“Bangor,” tune 799 
Be present at 

table, Lord 
Beethoven, 
Before Jehovah’s awful 

throne 


aeveeee 


> © eter ene e 9) 


pisses io ele «0» -OLess 


Begin, my tongue, some 
heavenly theme .-.-- 124 
Behold a_ stranger at 
the door ...---+-::: 253 
Behold the glories of 
the Lamb 209 
Behold the mountain 
of the Lord 
Behold the Savior of 
mankind 


Pe ee 
pleas ¢ © 2.0 


o eu ene’ ? 24s esc? 


Beneath Moriah’s rocky 
i 227 


eC renardte A ew Cenee me Sane 


Bernard of Clairvaux. 523 
Berridge, John ...---- 674 
“Bethany,” tune .-...-- 599 


Beyond the starry skies 638 

Bid us now depart in 
PEACE ..eeeeeeeeeaee 

Blessing, honor, thanks, 
and praise 


379 
586 
594 
599 
215 
753 


197 
494 


583 
479 
80 


NO. PAGE 
Blest be the dear unit- 
ing love .-+-s-+:""* 162 185 
Blest be the tie that 
binds ....ceecsesse? . 137 159 
199 215 
329 340 
482a 510 
Blest joys from mighty 
wonders wrought ... 596 603 
Blest season which with 
gladness fraught ..-- 596 603 
Bliss, Philip .--------: 247 250 
Blow ye the trumpet, 
blow. .ste-ech sleeenes 724 716 
Bright sparkles in the 
churchyard ..----+:- 420 452 
Brightly beams our 
Father’s mercy ----- 81 71 
Bring in the lambs, the 
tender lambs ..---: 379 
Carey, Alice and Phebe 65 56 
Cast thy bread upon 
the waters ...--+-++: 2 285 
Cheer up, my soul, there 
is a mercy seat...--- 402 428 
“Child of the Regi- 
MGMGE ses Soke eee eae 509 
Christ, for the worla 
We SIN@ieie es epider 634 
Christ is born, tell forth 
His fame ....---++: 651 644 
Christ, Thou the Cham- 
pion of the band .... 373 393 
Christ whose glory fills 
the skies .....-+--:- 222 233 
Christians, awake, sa- - 
lute the happy morn. 528 548 
Come, all ye chosen . 
saints of God ....-- 191 210 
Come, gracious Spirit, 
heavenly dove ...--- 198 214 
Come, Holy Ghost, in 
love” .<. «7 sneeenen 24 18 
Come, Holy_ Spirit, 
come! Jets Tb¥eqshentos 212 
Come, Holy  Spirt, 
heavenly dove ...--- 70 60 
151 173 


INDEX 


NO. PAGH 
Come, humble sinner, 
in whose breast..... 148 172 
397 420 
Come, let us anew our 
journey pursue ..... 161 185 
Come, let us join our 
cheerful songs ...... 163 187 
Come, let us Join our 
friends above ...... 538 557 
Come let us who in 
Christer 1... s.dasye eke 38 34 
Come, Lord, the droop- 
TAP SIMON Seaderaiieey ¢ chet 791 766 
Come, my soul, thou 
FOUSIEDG 2 ahewentys 2 801 774 
Come, my soul, thy 
Suibseprepare, ....cmais. 650 643 
Come, O come! in 
MIOUSHIAVSt aa shan ss 238 244 
Come, O come, thou 
quickening Spirit ... 595 602 
Come, O my soul, in 
BACred slays. vei i3<33 691 685 
Come, O Thou all vic- 
torious Lord ....... 220 231 
Come, O Thou Traveler 
TUK GWT Merete ee os" 364 381 
540 559 
Come, sacred _ Spirit 
{TONTMADOVER ost. ss 134 155 
Come, saints and sin- 
ners, hear me tell... 412 440 
Come, Savior, Jesus... 206 219 
Come, sinners, to the 
Gospel 20n...¢.: kok AS 30: 
Come this way, my 
fathers. “obs 671 660 
Come, Thou Almighty 
Blin Oa. ss Sele ec « 331 343 
Come, Thou Fount of 
every blessing ..... 173 196 
705 694 
Come, Thou soul-trans- 
forming Spirit ...... 757 743 
Come, Thou Spirit ever 
qi INE Mos Sera Bh eae 595 602 
Come to Jesus ....... 144 169 
726 720 


783 
NO. PAGE 

Come, we who love the 
Lord: snare Areixs).. 171 194 
211 223 
273 273 
694 687 

Come, ye disconsolate, 
where’er ye languish. 73 62 
305 311 

Come, ye sinners, poor 

ANOMNECO Ve a yeasts 413 443 
Come, ye sinners, poor 

and wretched ....... 192 211 
Commit thou all thy 

griefs.. “i... Sanaicaieey, 169 193 

244 247 

374 393 

672 663 

699 690 
Converted tunes ...... 725 717 
“Crawford,” tune ..... 796 770 
“Creation,” tune ..... 797 771 
“Creation,” (Oratorio). 5386 555 

614 619 
Creator, Spirit, by 

Whose aid. ...... 24... 246 249 
Crown Him Lord of all. 716 706 
Daily, daily, sing the 

PRISON Er Sira,d Aims gia 262 263 

789 764 
Daughter of Zion, from 

the: tdusts voe0.cseLs « 147 171 
Day is dying in the 

WR Mato ats sass. s Spaces 636° 633 
Day of Judgment, day 

of wonders .°..7..,; 795 770 
Dear Christian people. 156 179 
Dear Lord and Master 695 688 
Depth of mercy, can 

Ameve Dei itiecn sstsl. acxiad a 127 146 

389 413 

467 494 
Divine and moral songs 212 223 
Dunn, Rev. Samuel... 608 614 
Dykes, Rev. John Bac- 

CHusiis cares veg Le 616 619 
“Harthquake Hymns’... 432 467 
“Hin Feste Burg” 

(GuNe)>. % «os «ele tera 692 686 


INDEX 


784 
NO. PAGE 
“Blijah” (Oratorio) .. 252 254 
“Ellerton” (tune) . 765 749 
‘SOMCLAY . wa. wos ee 727) «(721 
Equip me for the war. 218 229 
Eternal Light ........ 730 723 
“Hyan” (tune) sii 0e.0. 585 595 
“Byentide” (tune) .... 610 616 
“wing (tune) (<2. 597 605 
Fairest Lord Jesus, 
Ruler of all nations. 774 755 
Far from the world, O 
Word pal flees sua sls 78 67 
263 264 
Father, by Thy love 
ANd BPOWEN ais. owls 184 205 
Father, I own Thy 
VOICED say ve seen, s 652 644 
Father of life and light 233 241 
Father of mercies, con- 
TLESCONG Ta tenors. easse> 234 242 
Father, what’er of 
earthly. bliss: .s.4.<h% 35.4 732 
Faure, Jean Baptiste.. 604 611 
Faweett, Rev. John ... 605 611 
Fear not, O little flock, 
te tod he ee 494 517 
Felice de Giardini .... 603 610 
Fifty-first Psalm ...... 439 472 
Finding no place of rest 550 568 
Flung to the heedless 
WaADUSiah. 0. oekes se eas 356 374 
pea = season called to 
Ne ee. eae 690 684 
an That shall I praise 
CONS ose crecee ees « 240 
Forever with the Lord. 300 306 
Free from the law, oh 
Happy scanwes he eee 120 138 
759 745 
Friend after friend de- 
DArteMsas i. ails aan 2 639 635 
From all that dwell be- 
low the skies ....... 07 219 
From dear New Eng- 
land’s happy ....... 320 330 
From deep distress to 
Theetl pray. wees. «3 432 


NO. PAGH 

From every’ stormy 
wind that blows..... 146 170 

From Greenland’s icy 
MOUNTAINS, eae es « 55 46 
371 391 
563 576 
641 636 

From the cross, uplifted 
high. A0e. ce erecmene 160 
“Ganges” (tune) ..... 587 596 
Gauntlett, Henry J. ... 592 599 

Gentle Jesus, meek and 
milds ss as. cetera 141 163 
Giardini, Felice de ... 603 610 

Give me the wings of 
faithxto TIS ye.«,..acidee 484 

Give to the winds thy 
{Garde cs @ see 244 247 
414 443 
672 663 

Glory and honour and 
PIAS ss ees oe ASB 160 184 

Glory to God, Whose 
sovereign grace .... 430 465 

Glory to Thee, my 
God, this night ..... 74 «63 
72 753 

Go and the Savior’s 
love. proclaim ...... 34 242 

Go on, go on, go on, 
£O"-OW pn raga see 312° 321 

God calling yet, shall 
T*notshear™... > tte 11 

God is our refuge and 
our strength ....... 345 365 

God is the refuge of 
His ‘saints -:2:. 233? 54 45 
271 272 
575 586 

God moves in a mys- 
tEViGUs.....ee oalee ete 164 188 
224 235 
369 387 

God ah ES: grace and 
majesty <a. Hee ent 761 
God of ae life to Thee 261 262 

God of my life what 
just eretumm:.. 2. anew 429 465 


— Hail to 


God of my life Whose 


gracious power ..... 619 
od Who madest 
heaven and earth... 240 
Golden harps are 
soundings. «0; wees 556 
Gracious Spirit, Dove 
GIVINGl Manet cee... 289 
Gracious Spirit, dwell 
Withe mere 20 8 566 
Grander than ocean’s 
SCOLY Sete ee ee ee 194 


Great God, of wonders 452 
Great God, the nations 552 
Great God, what do I 


see and hear ..... 367 

Great God, when I ap- 
proach Thy throne.. 737 
“Greenville” (tune)... 510 
Griffiths, Miss Ann ... 547 

Guide me, O Thou 
great Jehovah ...... 76 
544 


Hail Columbia, happy 
land 474 

Hail the joyful day’s 
return 596 


the 
SHOMILEG eters es 
Hail tranquil hour of 
closing day 
“Halle” (tune) 
“Hamburg” (tune) .. 


Handel, George Fred- 
erick eee ae ee ee 1 
Happy the heart where 
PTAceserelgn o..c... 353 
Hark, from the tombs 
a doleful sound ..... 735 
Hark the Gospel news 
is sounding ......... 
— Hark! the herald angels 
SING sales os dae eee 460 
Hark. the voice of Jesus 
callingiesss Soa 633 
Hark the voice of love 
and ‘mercy -....:.7.. 403 


INDEX 


NO. PAGH 


623 
245 
571 
291 
579 
212 


482 
570 


NO. 

“Hastings” (tune) . 586 
ave you on the Lord 

believed: = Foscees, 84 


Haydn, Francis Joseph 249 


532 
He is gone, a cloud... 529 
He leadeth me, O 
blessed thought .... 696 
Hear, Lord, the song of 
praise and prayer ... 620 
Hear my prayer, O 
heavenly Father “e220 
Hear, O sinner! mercy 
hails yous ay Weha 404 
Hearken to the solemn 
voice \.) OLE aare. 355 
“Helmsley” (tune).... 738 


“Herald Angels” (tune) 600 
Here o’er the earth a 


stranger I roam .... 318 
High let us swell our 

tuneful notes ...... 241 
His mother’s songs ... 714 
Ho, my comrades, see 

the® signal) $2.24... 114 
Holy as Thou, O Lord, 

i none. Poe 4 tae 39 


Holy Bible, book divine 1 
Holy Ghost, dispel our 


sadness 12°24) c et. 483 
Holy Ghost, with light 
divines Zp. the ake 440 


Holy Spirit, once again 595 
Hosanna be the chil- 


dren’sigong \ 35, eas st 787 
How are Thy servants 
blest inet, 222 Als 245 
How bright appears the 
morning star ....... 68 
How bright these glori- 
ous spirits shine .... 418 
How can I sink with 
Buch *s "prop ss. ee 167 
How condescending and 
how*kind «37 fF in2%:. 332 
How firm a foundation 98 
654 
How happy every child 
of grace? sn. ae. ee 153 
275 


785 


PAGE 
595 


73 
251 
551 
549 
688 
624 
237 - 
431 
373 
730 
607 


327 


786 


INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


How happy is the pil- 


grim’s lot 87 


io Sele © #10 fee 


How many pass the 
guilty night 
How pleasant 
see 
How sad our state by 
nature is 


eo OP ae ee 


tis ito 


a 


_ How sweet and awful is 
the place 

How sweet, how heav- 
enly is the sight.... 8 

How sweet the name of 
Jesus sounds 


eee eee 


How tedious and taste- 
less the hours 
How vain are all things 
here below 
“Hymns Ancient and 
Modern his cs. 3s hee 
“Hymns for 
demned Malefactors” 451 
“Hymns for the Use of 
Families” 
of Interces- 


serene 


ee 


ee 


“Hymns on the 
pected Invasion” 


I am so glad that our 
Father in heaven ... 117 
185 
381 
394 
530 
IT am weary of my sin. 304a 

I ask not now for gold 
to gild 
gave my life for thee 118 
561 
659 

have a Savior, He’s 
pleading in glory ... 115 


e 


— 


NO. PAGE 


I hear the Savior say. 284 
378 
I heard the voice of 
Jesus say 
I know not the hour 
when my Lord .... 48 
I know that my Re- 


weer eeeene 


deemer lives ....... 33 
728 

I lay my sins on Jesus. 560 
744 


I love Thy kingdom, 
Lord 197 
I love to steal awhile 


© ole! ee i6, 6.6 eters 6 eis 


eetaseceeessees 


I once was a stranger. 243 
I remember a_ voice 
which once 
I saw One hanging on 
a tree 
I think when I read 
that sweet story of 
old 


eeeeeeevee 


eeoreeseoreeseee 


ore 0 2 6 w 6 0 0}s 1 6 8 OS 


I want to be an angel. 526 
I was a wandering 
Be 5 ee un 
I will sing for Jesus... 390 
I would not live alway 388 


569 

Id be a butterfly...... 719 
If you cannot on the 

OCCA oka. ke Raseeead 383 

643 

(TIM TOVAUOLAS cata 481 
I’m a pilgrim bound for 

glory =a are* erate 424 
I’m a poor sinner and 

nothing at all ...... 268 


lm but a stranger here 119 
I’m not ashamed to 

own my Lord ...... 
In evil long I took de- 


lights)... aseceenienaets 313 
In grief and fear to 
TheewO- Lords... 
In sleep’s serene ob- 
livions laid? «...'. ssa 622 


286 
399 


461 


NO. PAGE 


In the Christian’s home 
mi Ploryeess. <. ieee. 


In the cross of Christ. . 


In the hour of trial, 
Jesu, pray for me... 621 
In the waves and 
mighty waters 
In Thine own way, O 
God of love 
In Thy cleft, O Rock. 720 


see eee 


“Japhet” (tune) 
Jerusalem divine, when 
shall I 
Jerusalem 
home 
Jerusalem the glorious 176 
Jerusalem the golden.. ped 
55 


ee ereee 


Cie Oe eat Pt lt wes 


my happy 
700 


Teo ere 6 ove eee ® 


Jesus, and shall it ever 
Dee ee een iss Te 
468 
582 
793 
Jesus Christ, our true 
Salvation 
Jesus, I 
charming name 


Jesus, at Thy command 


Se oe Cle On Ia 


Jesus, I my cross have 
taken 


CC 


Jesus, in Thy dying 
woes 
Jesus, Jesus, come and 
save us 
Jesus, keep me near 
the cross 
Jesus, Lord, Thy ser- 
vants see 


er] 
Cr eC Mec i ee de ht er Yar 
ee 


217 


INDEX 


Jesus loves me this I 
know? 7 svete eke ek oe 
“Jesus my All” (tune) 
Jesus my all to Heaven 
is gone 
Jesus, my Lord 
Jesus, my strength ... 
Jesus shall reign 
where’er the sun ... 
Jesus, Shepherd of the 
sheep 
Jesus show us Thy sal- 
vation 
Jesus still lead on ... 
Jesus, the name _ high 
over all 


er) 


see eae 


Ce er ir a 


CO Kee aa eae sc 


eee eww eer ene 


Jesus, these eyes have 
never seen 
Jesus, Thou 
deeming Lord 
Jesus, Thy Blood and 
Righteousness 


~~ all-re- 


Jesus, where’er 
people meet 
Jesus, your Lord and 
King >) ee: ee ee 
Jesu, Thou art my 
Righteousness 
“John Brown’s Body” 
(tune) 
“Jordan” (tune) 
Joy because the circling 
year 
Joy to the world 
Joyfully, joyfully on- 
ward I move 
Just as I am 


eee eee 


oie. % 668 10, 16) ish.0) 6 


Si 8. eo Use 0 4 a) 0) 08 alojelc 


Tt) Caer 


787 
NO. PAGH 
278 
612 
775 
216 
675 
225 


d4 


788 


INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


Mavour- 


coe 


“Kathleen 
, 


wes ee 8 oe 6 


Land ahead! its fruits 
are waving 548 
Late, late, so late, and 
dark the night ...... 9 
277 
Lead, Kindly Light... 58 
Leave God to order all 
thy ways 


coerce sees 


“Leominster” (tune) .. 583 
Let earth and heaven.. 40 
Let party mames no 
more 180 
Let us gather up the 
sunbeams 
Let us with a gladsome 
YING bs sens Morea ee ks 27 
Life is weary, Savior, 
take me 
Light of the 
pilgrim’s heart 
Listed into the cause of 


Peer mt PC a ee te OO tae 


avenue & \e euere tes 0) 6 we) 


658 


era ere creer @ 


506 
777 


eaten eciy 


eeeeee 


521 
AGOLE Sweeine eakiss «ons 707 
Lo, He comes with 
clouds descending .. 
Lo, round the throne.. 
Lo, the day of rest de- 
clineth 
Lord, a little band, and 
lowly 783 
Lord, as a family we 
rantelein) Sani ios OBO 233 
Lord, dismiss us with 
Thy blessing 


460 
259 


Pie eS = SA 


Lord, I am Thine, en- 
tirely Thine ....... 131 
Lord, I hear of showers 
of blessing 


Sra ee 


513 
616 


NO. PAGE 
Lord, I know Thy 

grace is nigh me ...-. 784 759 
Lord, in the morning 

Thou shalt hear .... 208 221 
Lord, it belongs not to 

MY CATE ce eseeeee es 67 «58 

458 487 
Lord Jesus, think of 

me Staode: aks. eee 747 «736 
Lord of all being, 

throned afar .....-- 647 
Lord of Heaven, lone 

GNP Sade csvae tee aos 158 181 
Lord of Hosts, to Thee 

WE) TRIS en). sete es eels 7 4 
Lord of the Sabbath, 

hear our VOWS ...... 359 376 
Lord, teach a little 

child to pray .....-: 236 243 
Lord, when we bend 

before aceensee io 195 212 
Lord, while for all man- 

AcinGaweMee os. tects 634 632 
“Host. Ghords) 3: sas sie 464 492 
Love divine, all love 

excelling ....csee+-- 37s 333 

Tolento 
“Maist Onie Day”.... 721 712 
Mason, Lowell ....... 602 609 
Maxim, Granville .... 531 550 
Maxwelton’s braes are 

onic: Hfo. woteateats 149 
May God unto us gra- 

cious be™ 22... 5... 415 444 
“Mear” (tune) ......- 736 727 
Medley, Rev. Samuel... 535 554 
Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, 

Pelix¢..% <ftcc ieee 607 613 
Mercy and judgment 

ATC MIDY Loess ais poe 682 676 
“Merton” (tune)...... 722 714 
Met again in Jesus’ 

name! -[i3i.j55 eee 513 
’Mid pleasures - and 

palaces «.2s.% gas 100 100 

302 307 
543 560 


INDEX 789 
NO. PAGE NO. PAGE 
Mighty God while an- Near the cross was 
Pel tebe. char Pe s.s Lf Bet 9D Mary weeping ...... 732 725 
Mine eyes have seen Nearer, my God, to 
thee ROLY |e. saiseccs 109 123 Thee .iisct.seiged 103 109 
567 580 186 206 
684 679 293 300 
é 712 700 417 447 
“Monson” (tune) ..... 739 730 676 666 
A Johann C, W. “Nicea” (tune) ...... 465 493 
Jet) Se oe 250 252 No more, my God, I © 
“Mi. Blanc” (tune)... 254 255 boast no more ...... 396 420 
ae in sorrow, oft in Nobody knows’ de 
Re eS rr kas 461 490 trouble I see ....... 798 772 
Must Jesus bear the “Northfield” (tune) 513 535 
cross alone. ......... 159 183 Not all the blood of 
My country, ’tis of thee 618 622 beasts: <.i.ceiiseetee ser 15 9 
My days are gliding 88 77 
SWitblypOVwcoes aces 177 199 756 743 
My faith looks up to Nothing but leaves.... 686 681 
[DhGpe tices eet ele 142 165 Nothing either great or 
370 388 Sina Gr sth ese eres 398 422 
492 516 Now begin the _ heav- 
545 564 enlyztheme! snes vere 564 577 
_ My God, and is Thy Now hush your cries 
table spread ........ 241 246 and shed no tears.. 459 488 
My God, I love Thee Now I have found a 
not:because .......% SU}? 22 PTIGN Ceetd..cs oe Fa 337 ©6349 
My God, my Father, Now is the accepted 
while] estray Nc... 558 572 {UIC MO. cs eae 2. 61 
760 745 Now Israel may say, 
My heavenly home is and that truly ...... 303 308 
brighteand Saeko ace 292 299 Now let our souls on 
My hope is built on wings sublime ...... 755 742 
nothing else ....... 239 244° Now pray we all God, 
My Jesus, -as Thou the Comforter ..... 416 446 
Wilites, tattle on aes oe 629 628 594 600 
My Jesus, stay Thou Now thank we all our 
by? meme sosites wes 792 766 GOd vere. ac... <5 Sadeoiers 15 
My latest sun is sink- Now that the sun is 
ING PASE ns SaaS A 279 279 gleaming bright .... 276, 277 
My Lord, how full of 
Sweet Ets SEN. 13 8 
My soul repeat His O blessed, Savior, Thy 
praise) TR, Mm y. Oo:.. 85 74 love”. eis Se eee 800 774 
My soul through my O come and mourm 
Redeemer’s ........ 349 368 WIth ME «4.4 eh ees 484 511 
My thoughts on awful O day of rest and glad- 
subjects: i dvvitane.’ 266 267 NESS rena ae ate DOSie Des 
My times of sorrow O do not be dis- 
and of. joy = tes. Gat 237. 243 couraged ...5.... anu 145 170 


790 


O for a closer walk with 
od 


nifei'e |v. we 06 © 0°06 8 6 


O for a heart to praise 
on God SR ‘ 
or a ‘thousan 

i tongues to sing...... 
O for the death of 
those 
O give ye praise unto 
the Lord 
O God, look down from 
Lea VeD setae ne tae 
O God of Abraham, 
ever BUTO)s. voce sce. 
O God of Bethal by 
whose hand ........ 
O God of Light and 
LOVE ans sae ees 
O God, why hast Thou 
CASE SAIS LOL Bs satel 0i= 
O happy day that fixed 
BU) Viteh, cine satay ite saan aot Ee 
O happy saints who 
dwellia:t amie 
O Holy Father, just 
ANC bLUCHer Aree. «eels « 
O Holy Ghost, Thou 
Fount of Light 


soe reser sreecrre 


we eh eee ee es 


O Jesus Christ, grow 
AT HOWANGING Bir... 
O Jesus, my Hope, 
HORAMOdt Ae Aes . was 
O Jesus, sweet the tears 
sheds. ware wens ° 
O joyful sound of Gos- 
pel grace... tees 


O little children sing.. 
O Lord, I would delight 
in Thee 
O Lord of Hosts, Al- 
mighty King ....... 
O Lerd, our God, with 
COINOSE oo oe «sie as 0 21s 
O Lord, our languid 
souls inspire 
O Lord, Thou hast re- 
jected us 


rh ee ee a 


ee ee eee 


INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


304 
326 


323 
170 


729 


733 


215 
706 


400 
581 


330 


6 
125 


367 


342 


NO. PAGE 


O Lord, Thy heavenly 
PTACE TL Sia cw teen ie 5% 525 
O Lord, Thy work re- 
vive 
O love 


740 


Cee eweesin ees eee 


mh AY cit eee ate 431 
me go 
O love who formed’st 
me to wear 
O Master, it is good 


TOW IDC. Hae cates teeite 282 
631 

O morning star, how 

O mother dear, Jerusa- 
lemmerre sae i. aes 46 
572 

O Sacred Head, now 
WWOUTIGECLe wien eieieis senate 505 
VS. 

O sing of Jesus, Lamb 
of God@enn Bera: 421 

O sometimes the sha- 
OWS] ale tao. s duet 52 

O tell me no more of 
+this® world’s “sears 425 

O that the Lord would 
TRACING. so pe cies on 472 

O Thou from whom all 
ZOOUNESS ....eeeeeee 62 
342 
656 

O Thou who camest 
from: above).... @4- sean 511 

QO Thou, God, Who 
hearest prayer .....- 697 

O thou, my soul, bless 
God, the Lord ...... 368 


O thou, my soul, forget 
no’ more? 4iet. yes 741 
O Thou to Whom in 
ancient times 
O where are kings and 
empires *%.. .cisieereeeer 
O where shall rest be 
found 


339 


Pee 


O Zion afflicted with 
wave upon wave .... 242 


545 
731 
466 
748 
750 


284 
631 


19 


39 
584 


528 
715 


455 

43 
460 
498 

52 
358 
648 
533 
689 
386 
731 
241 
352 


190 
290 


246 


O’er those gloomy hills 
of darkness 


eee ee eeee 


Of all that decks the 
field or bower 
Oh come and let us all 
WIT MONE cise fi.» 
Oh Christ, He is the 
POUTICAL Bett tera 5's artes 
Oh! Mean may seem 
this house 
Oh, say, can you see by 
the dawn’s 


eeeeee 


ee Ce Th 


Oh sing to me of 
heaven ..... seen eed 
Oh sweetly breathe the 
Lyres* eke. sone 
Oh why should the 
spirit of mortal ..... 
On Jordan’s stormy 


banks I stand ...... 
On the fount of life 
eternal 
On the mountain’s top 
appearing 


se ete we eene 


On this stone, now laid 
with prayer 
One _ sweetly 
thought 


solemn 


Only waiting till the 
shadows 
Onward, Christian sol- 
diers, marching 
Our Father, God, Who 
art in heaven 
Out on an ocean all 
Donadless) tees 22% 
“Old Hundred” (tune). 
“Olmutz” (tune) 


Giovanni 


ey 


Palestrina, 
Pierluigi de 
Pass me not, O gentle 
Savior 


149 
582 
598 

86 
704 
749 
579 


93 
294 


80 
702 
91 


365 
785 


805 


11 
788 


358 


111 
382 


316 
507 
230 
377 


617 
255 


568 


INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


172 
592 
606 


74 


402 


Patriotic singing ...... 
“Pax Tecum” (tune) .. 
Peace, doubting heart! 

My God’s I am ... 


Peace, my heart, 
calms be: still...: 2223 
Peace, troubled ~ soul, 


thou need’st 
People of the living 
OOM, Aanse os See 
Pilgrim, burdened with 
thy sin 
Plunged in a gulf of 
dark despair 
“Portugese 
CtUNE) Sirs aeons aoe 
Praise God from Whom 
all blessings 


ey 


Praise the Lord, His 
glories show 
Praise to the Holiest in 
the 
Praise ye the Lord, ’tis 
good to 
Prayer is the soul’s sin- 
cere desire 


eee w nn ne 
ie 6 6.6 » ee oe eyame 


cere we eee 


Precious promise God 
hath given 


ee ere eee ee 


Rain on the roof...... 
Rescue the perishing, 
care for the dying... 
Return, O wanderer, to 
thy home 
Righteous God, Whose 
vengeful vials 
Rise, crowned 
light, imperial Salem 
Rock of Ages, cleft for 
me 


eee eee eens 


ee) 


791 


NO. PAGE 
455 
596 


497 
756 


be . 


ootecesoeres cee 


INDEX 


792 
NO. PAGE 
ps Gioachino An- 
_ as 804. 777 
Rout roll the weeks.. 596 603 
Safe in the arms of 
JESUS. siscenwesseeds 155 178 
297 304 
343 360 
701 692 
Sailor, through the 
Garkness ....4..e0+0: 82 72 
Saints 4 God, the 
GS WINWIS oe os ae koe isic 663 654 
Salvation! O the jose 
rSOqut aX | At aera ea nic 369 
Savior, breathe an 
evening Be Sap eetrtnic 196 213 
Savior, visit Thy plan- 
Ba RIOIES eeteea vier es ovs eile 630 629 
Say, brothers, will you 
THCCURUS eer e's este mm 384 409 
Schubert, Franz Peter 803 776 
See how great a flame. 214 226 
“Selma” (tune) ...... 590 597 
Servant of God, well 
e-SONE> Wi hee vd eb See 779 «757 
Shall we gather at the 
Dy Pep GY cae ainiete ase cal te eeeine = 123 141 
778 757 
Shepherd of tender 
Youths | fas,0. «wees re 21 
shine, mighty God, on 
TOG AA see am ee 754 741 
“ghirland” (tune) 589 597 
Show pity, Lord, 
BOUL Ys wncs sade eels 14 9 
132. 151 
Shrinking from the 
COld. sites % Scie eS 385 410 
Since all the varying 
SCENES Se siile cect ones 36-32 
Singing for Jesus ..... 130 150 
Sister thou was’t mild 
Sas Paging cies eae en 517 538 
So fades the lovely 
DIGGING S sig access: « 200 
Softly and tenderly 
VeRUS Tes ss 8. olsie oleime 671 
Sometimes a light sur- 
prises 750 


NO. PAGH 


Sovereign, Ruler of the 
skies 338 
Sow in the morn thy 
ROCHE. Uc «2 775 
Sowing the seed by the 122 
298 


ene.e © 6 6-0 ej are_e ae ee 


Speak gently, it is bet- 

ter far 479 
Spirit, leave thy house 

of clay See aistre 
“Sts Alpheaoi (tune).. 
“St. Anne” (tune). «ss 758 
“St. Matthew” (tune). 612 
“Stabat Mater’ (tune) 794 
Stand up, and bless the 2 
Stand up, stand up, for 


SJ esQb lec fas on 5. eebeees 133 
580 
Stay, Thou insulted 
Spiritiiodiciic. depueies © « 443 
Steele, Miss Anne ..... §22 
Strong Son of God.... 623 
Sweet hour of pray er.. 417 
Sweet is the work, my 
(Od ee oes: « ts. takin 136 
Sweet the time, ex- 
Ceeding Wel... cialis wa 31 
Sweet was the time 
myhenshirstiseacineeen ate 107 
Sullivan, Sir Arthur... 743 


Take me, O my Father 664 


_ Take my life and let 


it -bew 48% te he eee 624 
748 

Take the name of Jesus 
WIthoryOU. wm ssclet fermen 391 
Te Deum Laudamus.. 256 

Teach me, my God, my 
King «0... +-+eeeees 23 

Tell it out among the 
nations? faerie ster 553 


Tell me the old, old 
story 


0 6b cles 0 ouwlele.e.ee 


That cor of wrath, that 501 

The Church’s one 
Foundation y.ssesees 

“The Creation” (Ora- 
COLI) CPOs elialeka cle ae 614 


INDEX 


NO. PAGE 


The day is past and 
WOOE vous. oscars 
The day of resurrec- 
IOWA Macks «os 3's 0's 
The Exile of Erin.... 
The fifty best Ameri- 
can hymns 
he gathering clouds 


ee 


344 


477 
577 


» © a,6Jee © sy 


praise 


The great Archangel’s 
CIUBND TE, vic ohitase eh 
The harmonious black- 
isl!) 5 aon gee tee 
The heavens declare 
ainspe lOry= cd acres 
The King of Glory we 
DF OCMAIIO Et... acrcteciaten 
The Last Hope ...... 
The Lord descended. . 
The Lord is our ref- 
WE es a A 
The Lord my pasture 
shall prepare 
Phe Lord my Shepherd 
The Lord’s my light 
ONGUBE Sor ed eslersts hae 
The Lord’s my Shep- 
herd 


ey 


4Phemnost. Chord’... 
“The Messiah” (Ora- 

COLO lees. ees 
309 


The Moonlight Sonata 480 
The morning light is 
breaking 
The night was dark, 
behola™shews ..0.. 253 
The Old Oaken Bucket 687 


re et 


The Old Psalm Tune. 715 
The _ praying __ spirit 
breathews 3. ies. 445 


The royal banners for- 
ward go 


re ee 


363 


503 
588 


673 
470 


' 10 


276 
353 


496 
553 
734 
569 
498 

19 
512 

42 

54 
307 
217 
434 
678 
492 
253 
317 
507 
656 


397 
682 


704 


478 
21 


793 
NO. PAGE 
The sands of time are 
SIN RAM O SE ieee ores « 749 737 
The Son of God! the 
Lorde of elite. -p emacs 500 523 
The Song of the Shirt 688 683 
The spacious  firma- 
ment <2i....3 a0 +. ae 42 
The voice of Free 
Grace sss) Rae 410 439 
781 758 
There came to the 
beach” 2t.. Youbet 577. 588 
There is a book that all 
TAY ohioie hee teehee 77 ~=«66 
There is a City great 
and). 54k... Be eee 746 735 
There is a fountain 
filled -avith 3.113 Seen 90 84 
291 293 
498 522 
There is a gate that 
Stands mess. oh acsee 419 451 
There is a God that 
reigns above ....... 310 320 
There is a happy land 307 314 
670 659 
761 747 
There is a land im- 
MOT Alas see 666 656 
There is a land of pure 
delight-s@). 29.25 228s 47 40 
649 642 
There is a spot to me 
more deares. ak) .see 678 669 
There is an eye that 
never sleeps ........ 657 649 
There is no flock how- 
CV GINS ein eee cars 42 36 
There were ninety and 
MING: suktey ee cee ee 71 
There’s a light in the . 
WATCO Wile ie cia eseae ets 832 3 
Thine earthly Sabbath. 175 197 
Thou art gone to the 
PIAVCL icles Stace © aes 667 657 
Thou God of truth and 
lovee aan 427 462 
Thou hidden love of 
God: ovheas eae ae 470 496 


INDEX 


794 
NO. PAGE 
fee Holy Spirit we 
RRB ACO SS 594 600 
Thou Pott flowing Ked- 
02) yaoi orc 462 491 
Thou Son of God 
Whose flaming ..... 07. an0e 
Though now the na- 
fiONS Gah tes ~ sidare sees 750 738 
Though troubles assail. 181 203 
Three Fishers went 
sailing Sti). oGie. eae 542 560 
Through the valley of 
these (Sih. eeee 121 138 
Thy word, O Lord, Thy 

precious .......+++- 625 626 
Time is winging us 

Onin che 3.050) clearer 204 218 
Tis religion that can 

PING esto cea ees 537 556 
"Tis the promise of 

CodV aie Fee Sk Fs 116 131 
To heaven I lift my 

waiting eyes .......- 434 468 
To Thy temple we re- 

Paitin. ee Shy Se 179 202 
To Thee I life my soul 311 320 
To us salvation now .. 325 336 
To-day the Savior calls 379 401 

635 633 
To-day thou livest yet 790 765 
True love can ne’er for- 
weit Ge. he ots vee 475 500 
Upward I lift mine 
CVG enakie. ccaeawe: - 668 657 
Vain, delusive world, 
AMAICUa* hacsiee Meee 168 192 
490 514 
Vital Spark of heav- 
enly «flame ......... 202214 
Were awake, for night 
BST AS Citas s's:¢ se 25.19 
Walk in the light!.... 60 51 
Walther, Johann ..... 644 637 
-—Watchman, tell us of 
theres ate he sees 541 559 
Watts, Rev. Isaac . 456 486 


NO. PAGE 


We are joyously voy- 
aging over 
bs come to the foun- 


eee eee eee 


Slee etels e. 6,8 (eee 816 


9 

We aia meet beyond 698 

We speak of the realms 229 

“Webb” (tune) 609 
Welcome happy morn- 

ing 


ib 06.68 0 0 © 6 Oreo FeO @ 


“Wellesley” (tune).... 
We're traveling home 
to Heaven 


Wesley’s “Hymns” .... 
What a friend we have 


What can wash away 


my 
What’ means this eager 
ees our Father does 


When Abraham’s  ser- 
vant 
When all Thy mercies, 
O my God 
When doomed to death 
When he cometh . 


ods; be 46) 4 598 © Pee, 


When I can read my.. 
When I survey the.... 


When Israel freed from 
When Israel of the 
Tord rca eee 
When Jordan hushed... 4 
When marshalled on 
the 182 
264 
When my final farewell 648 
When rising from the.. 48 
When the _ harvest is 
(Oeste aise eich. < 
When Thou, my right- 
eous Judge ee ee 
Where shall my won- 
dering’... 2 Soe ee 
While on the verge of 
life 


3S Sle © 6:0, 0, eyece ee \euape 6 


516 
287 


eee eroereser esses 


INDEX _ 


NO. PAGE 
Whosoever heareth 
SHOUGomMm ets « citetes 3.6 519 540 
Why should the chil- 
hiald 4A ..'5 en eee 210 222 
Why those fears, be- 
HOMME. os sae 478 504 
With tearful eyes I 
lOO Keer er... 187 207 
Woodman, spare that.. 709 698 
Worship and thanks... 428 464 


795 

NO. PAGE 

Yankee Doodle ....... 476 501 

Ye servants of God... 753 740: 
Ye simple souls .that 

SUBVae — cierto s) = viceeaeiore 219 230 
Yes, my native 

land: ®o ohoe see 423 457 

Yet there is room!.... 299 305 

493 516 

759 745 

tVorkle (tune) sani 591 598 


liseat. 3 Aa ; : ; ; 
Sr Nee 4's es Se ay a > 
: 4 By 5 
y sed 3 
ri Tere 


Pe "Ws, 
Yt > ppi Bb 20 
“ ows 4 ‘ - J ~~ 


iS. “ ty 
et \ mae it 
A wy! . fee 

















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